THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


PRU622 

.h6 

1902 


1 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00043989808 


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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


823 

D75ho 
1902 


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OCT  1*  1974 


The  Hound  of  the 
Baskervilles 


I 

A   SPECIAL    LIMITED  EDITION 

The  Hound  of 
7"/6^Baskervilles 

ANOTHER  ADVENTU  RE  OF 
SHERLOCK  HOLMES 


By  A.   CONAN  DOYLE 

Author  of  ^^T*he  Adventures  of 
Sherlock  Holmes^''  ^^T'he  Green  Flagyl  etc. 


GROSSET    £sf  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS     :     :     NEW  YORK 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/houndofbaskervil00doyl_6 


My  Dear  Robinson  : 

It  was  your  account  of  a  west  country  legend 
which  first  suggested  the  Idea  of  this  little  tale 
to  iny  mind. 

For  this,  and  for  the  help  which  you  gave  me 
in  its  evolution,  all  thanks. 

Yours  most  truly, 

A.  CoNAN  Doyle. 


A  Table  of  the  Contents 

PAGE 

I.  Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes  i 

II.  The  Curse  of  the  Baskervilles    .    .    .    ,  ii 

III.  The  Problem   .  27 

IV.  Sir  Henry  Baskerville  41 

V.  Three  Broken  Threads.    .    ,    .    .    .    .    .  59 

VI.  Baskerville  Hall  75 

VII.  The  Stapletons  of  Merripit  House  ...  89 

VIII.  First  Report  of  Dr.  Watson  .110 

IX.  The  Light  Upon  the  Moor  121 

X.  Extract  from  the  Diary  of  Dr.  Watson  .  147 

XI.  The  Man  on  the  Tor  162 

XII.  Death  on  the  Moor  .........  181 

XIII.  Fixing  the  Nets    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .  199 

.XIV.  The  Hound  of  the  Baskervilles  ....  217 

XV.  A  Retrospection   234 


The  Hound  of  the 
Baskervilles 


I 


Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes 

MR.  SHERLOCK  HOLMES,  who  was 
usually  very  late  in  the  mornings,  save  up- 
on those  not  infrequent  occasions  when  he 
was  up  all  night,  was  seated  at  the  breakfast  table. 
I  stood  upon  the  hearth-rug  and  picked  up  the  stick 
which  our  visitor  had  left  behind  him  the  night  be- 
fore. It  was  a  fine,  thick  piece  of  wood,  bulbous- 
headed,  of  the  sort  which  is  known  as  a  "  Penang 
lawyer.''  Just  under  the  head  was  a  broad  silver 
band,  nearly  an  inch  across.  "  To  James  Mortimer, 
M.R.C.S.,  from  his  friends  of  the  C.C.H.,''  was  en- 
graved upon  it,  with  the  date  1884."  It  was  just 
such  a  stick  as  the  old-fashioned  family  practitioner 
used  to  carry — dignified,  solid,  and  reassuring. 
Well,  Watson,  what  do  you  make  of  it?  " 
Holmes  was  sitting  with  his  back  to  me,  and  I 
had  given  him  no  sign  of  my  occupation. 

"  How  did  you  know  what  I  was  doing?  I  be- 
lieve you  have  eyes  in  the  back  of  your  head.'* 

"  I  have,  at  least,  a  well-polished  silver-plated 
coffee-pot  in  front  of  me,"  said  he.  But,  tell  me, 
Watson,  what  do  you  make  of  our  visitor's  stick? 
Since  we  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  miss  him 
and  have  no  notion  of  his  errand,  this  accidental 

I 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

souvenir  becomes  of  importance.  Let  me  hear  you 
reconstruct  the  man  by  an  examination  of  it." 

I  think,"  said  I,  following  as  far  as  I  could  the 
methods  of  my  companion,  that  Dr.  Mortimer  is 
a  successful  elderly  medical  man,  well-esteemed, 
since  those  who  know  him  give  him  this  mark  of 
their  appreciation." 

"  Good !  "  said  Holmes.    "  Excellent !  " 
I  think  also  that  the  probability  is  in  favour  of 
his  being  a  country  practitioner  who  does  a  great 
deal  of  his  visiting  on  foot." 

**Whyso?" 

"  Because  this  stick,  though  originally  a  very 
handsome  one,  has  been  so  knocked  about  that  I 
can  hardly  imagine  a  town  practitioner  carrying  it. 
The  thick  iron  ferrule  is  worn  down,  so  it  is  evident 
that  he  has  done  a  great  amount  of  walking  with  it." 
Perfectly  sound !  "  said  Holmes. 
And  then  again,  there  is  the  '  friends  of  the 
C.C.H.'  I  should  guess  that  to  be  the  Something 
Hunt,  the  local  hunt  to  whose  members  he  has  pos- 
sibly given  some  surgical  assistance,  and  which  has 
made  him  a  small  presentation  in  return." 

"  Really,  Watson,  you  excel  yourself,"  said 
Holmes,  pushing  back  his  chair  and  lighting  a  cigar- 
ette. I  am  bound  to  say  that  in  all  the  accounts 
which  you  have  been  so  good  as  to  give  of  my  own 
small  achievements  you  have  habitually  underrated 
your  own  abilities.  It  may  be  that  you  are  not 
yourself  luminous,  but  you  are  a  conductor  of  light. 

2 


MR.    SHERLOCK  HOLMES 


Some  people  without  possessing  genius  have  a  re- 
markable power  of  stimulating  it.  I  confess,  my 
dear  fellow,  that  I  am  very  much  in  your  debt." 

He  had  never  said  as  much  before,  and  I  must 
admit  that  his  words  gave  me  keen  pleasure,  for  I 
had  often  been  piqued  by  his  indifTerence  to  my  ad- 
miration and  to  the  attempts  which  I  had  made  to 
give  publicity  to  his  methods.  I  was  proud  too  to 
think  that  I  had  so  far  mastered  his  system  as  to 
apply  it  in  a  way  which  earned  his  approval.  He 
now  took  the  stick  from  my  hands  and  examined  it 
for  a  few  minutes  with  his  naked  eyes.  Then  with 
an  expression  of  interest  he  laid  down  his  cigarette 
and,  carrying  the  cane  to  the  window,  he  looked 
over  it  again  with  a  convex  lens. 

"  Interesting,  though  elementary,"  said  he,  as  he 
returned  to  his  favourite  corner  of  the  settee. 
"  There  are  certainly  one  or  two  indications  upon 
the  stick.  It  gives  us  the  basis  for  several  deduc- 
tions." 

Has  anything  escaped  me?  "  I  asked,  with  some 
self-importance.  "  I  trust  that  there  is  nothing  of 
consequence  which  I  have  overlooked?  " 

"  I  am  afraid,  my  dear  Watson,  that  most  of  your 
conclusions  were  erroneous.  When  I  said  that  you 
stimulated  me  I  meant,  to  be  frank,  that  in  noting 
your  fallacies  I  was  occasionally  guided  towards  the 
truth.  Not  that  you  are  entirely  wrong  in  this  in- 
stance. The  man  is  certainly  a  country  practi- 
tioner.   And  he  walks  a  good  deal." 

3 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

Then  I  was  right/' 

To  that  extent." 
"  But  that  was  all/' 

No,  no,  my  dear  Watson,  not  all — by  no  means 
all.  I  would  suggest,  for  example,  that  a  presenta- 
tion to  a  doctor  is  more  likely  to  come  from  a 
hospital  than  from  a  hunt,  and  that  when  the  in- 
itials *  C.C  are  placed  before  that  hospital  the 
words  '  Charing  Cross '  very  naturally  suggest 
themselves.'' 

You  may  be  right." 
"  The  probability  lies  in  that  direction.    And  if 
we  take  this  as  a  working  hypothesis  we  have  a  fresh 
basis  from  which  to  start  our  construction  of  this 
unknown  visitor." 

"  Well,  then,  supposing  that '  C.C.H.'  does  stand 
for  '  Charing  Cross  Hospital,'  what  further  infer- 
ences may  we  draw?  " 

"  Do  none  suggest  themselves?  You  know  my 
methods.    Apply  them! " 

I  can  only  think  of  the  obvious  conclusion  that 
the  man  has  practised  in  town  before  going  to  the 
country." 

"  I  think  that  we  might  venture  a  little  farther 
than  this.  Look  at  it  in  this  light.  On  what  occa- 
sion would  it  be  most  probable  that  such  a  presenta- 
tion would  be  made?  When  would  his  friends  unite 
to  give  him  a  pledge  of  their  good  will?  Obviously 
at  the  moment  when  Dr.  Mortimer  withdrew  from 
the  service  of  the  hospital  in  order  to  start  in  prac- 

4 


MR.    SHERLOCK  HOLMES 


tice  for  himself.  We  know  there  has  been  a  pres- 
entation. We  believe  there  has  been  a  change 
from  a  town  hospital  to  a  country  practice.  Is  it, 
then,  stretching  our  inference  too  far  to  say  that  the 
presentation  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  change? 
It  certainly  seems  probable.'' 

"  Now,  you  will  observe  that  he  could  not  have 
been  on  the  staff  of  the  hospital,  since  only  a  man 
well-established  in  a  London  practice  could  hold 
such  a  position,  and  such  a  one  would  not  drift  into 
the  country.  What  was  he,  then?  If  he  was  in 
the  hospital  and  yet  not  on  the  staff  he  could  only 
have  been  a  house-surgeon  or  a  house-physician — 
little  more  than  a  senior  student.  And  he  left  five 
years  ago — the  date  is  on  the  stick.  So  your  grave, 
middle-aged  family  practitioner  vanishes  into  thin 
air,  my  dear  Watson,  and  there  emerges  a  young 
fellow  under  thirty,  amiable,  unambitious,  absent- 
minded,  and  the  possessor  of  a  favourite  dog,  which 
I  should  describe  roughly  as  being  larger  than  a 
terrier  and  smaller  than  a  mastiff.'' 

I  laughed  incredulously  as  Sherlock  Holmes 
leaned  back  in  his  settee  and  blew  little  wavering 
rings  of  smoke  up  to  the  ceiling. 

"  As  to  the  latter  part,  I  have  no  means  of  check- 
ing you,"  said  I,  ^'  but  at  least  it  is  not  difficult  to 
find  out  a  few  particulars  about  the  man's  age  and 
professional  career."  From  my  small  medical  shelf 
I  took  down  the  Medical  Directory  and  turned  up 
the  name.    There  were  several  Mortimers,  but  only 

5 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

one  who  could  be  our  visitor.  I  read  his  record 
aloud. 

"  Mortimer,  James,  M.R.C.S.,  1882,  Grimpen, 
Dartmoor,  Devon.  House  surgeon,  from  1882  to 
1884,  at  Charing  Cross  Hospital.  Winner  of  the 
Jackson  prize  for  Comparative  Pathology,  with  es- 
say entitled  '  Is  Disease  a  Reversion?  '  Correspond- 
ing member  of  the  Swedish  Pathological  Society. 
Author  of  *  Some  Freaks  of  Atavism  *  {Lancet, 
1882).  '  Do  We  Progress? '  {Journal  of  Psychol- 
ogy,  March,  1883).  Medical  Officer  for  the  par- 
ishes of  Grimpen,  Thorsley,  and  High  Barrow.*' 

No  mention  of  that  local  hunt,  Watson,"  said 
Holmes,  with  a  mischievous  smile,  "  but  a  country 
doctor,  as  you  very  astutely  observed.  I  think  that 
I  am  fairly  justified  in  my  inferences.  As  to  the 
adjectives,  I  said,  if  I  remember  right,  amiable,  un- 
ambitious, and  absent-minded.  It  is  my  experience 
that  it  is  only  an  amiable  man  in  this  world  who 
receives  testimonials,  only  an  unambitious  one  who 
abandons  a  London  career  for  the  country,  and  only 
an  absent-minded  one  who  leaves  his  stick  and  not 
his  visiting-card  after  waiting  an  hour  in  your 
room." 

"  And  the  dog?  " 
Has  been  in  the  habit  of  carrying  this  stick  be- 
hind his  master.  Being  a  heavy  stick  the  dog  has 
held  it  tightly  by  the  middle,  and  the  marks  of  his 
teeth  are  very  plainly  visible.  The  dog's  jaw,  as 
shown  in  the  space  between  these  marks,  is  too 

6 


MR.    SHERLOCK  HOLMES 


broad  in  my  opinion  for  a  terrier  and  not  broad 
enough  for  a  mastiff.  It  may  have  been^ — yes,  by 
Jove,  it  is  a  curly-haired  spaniel/' 

He  had  risen  and  paced  the  room  as  he  spoke. 
Now  he  halted  in  the  recess  of  the  window.  There 
was  such  a  ring  of  conviction  in  his  voice  that  I 
glanced  up  in  surprise. 

My  dear  fellow,  how  can  you  possibly  be  so 
sure  of  that?  " 

For  the  very  simple  reason  that  I  see  the  dog 
himself  on  our  very  door-step,  and  there  is  the  ring 
of  its  owner.  Don't  move,  I  beg  you,  Watson. 
He  is  a  professional  brother  of  yours,  and  your  pres- 
ence may  be  of  assistance  to  me.  Now  is  the  dra- 
matic moment  of  fate,  Watson,  when  you  hear  a 
step  upon  the  stair  which  is  walking  into  your  life, 
and  you  know  not  whether  for  good  or  ill.  What 
does  Dr.  James  Mortimer,  the  man  of  science,  ask 
of  Sherlock  Holmes,  the  speciaHst  in  crime?  Come 
in!" 

The  appearance  of  our  visitor  was  a  surprise  to 
me,  since  I  had  expected  a  typical  country  practi- 
tioner. He  was  a  very  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  long 
nose  like  a  beak,  which  jutted  out  between  two 
keen,  grey  eyes,  set  closely  together  and  sparkling 
brightly  from  behind  a  pair  of  gold-rimmed  glasses. 
He  was  clad  in  a  professional  but  rather  slovenly 
fashion,  for  his  frock-coat  was  dingy  and  his  trousers 
frayed.  Though  young,  his  long  back  was  already 
bowed,  and  he  walked  with  a  forward  thrust  of  his 

7 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


head  and  a  general  air  of  peering  benevolence.  As 
he  entered  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  stick  in  Holmes's 
hand,  and  he  ran  towards  it  with  an  exclamation 
of  joy.  I  am  so  very  glad/'  said  he.  I  was  not 
sure  whether  I  had  left  it  here  or  in  the  Shipping 
Office.  I  would  not  lose  that  stick  for  the  world." 
A  presentation,  I  see,"  said  Holmes. 
Yes,  sir." 

"  From  Charing  Cross  Hospital?  " 

"  From  one  or  two  friends  there  on  the  occasion 
of  my  marriage." 

"  Dear,  dear,  that's  bad! "  said  Holmes,  shaking 
his  head. 

Dr.  Mortimer  blinked  through  his  glasses  in  mild 
astonishment. 

"  Why  was  it  bad?  " 

"  Only  that  you  have  disarranged  our  little  de- 
ductions.   Your  marriage,  you  say?  " 

Yes,  sir.  I  married,  and  so  left  the  hospital, 
and  with  it  all  hopes  of  a  consulting  practice.  It 
was  necessary  to  make  a  home  of  my  own." 

Come,  come,  we  are  not  so  far  wrong  after  all," 
said   Holmes.      And  now,   Dr.  James  Morti- 


"  Mister,  sir,  Mister— a  humble  M.R.C.S." 

"  And  a  man  of  precise  mind,  evidently." 

"A  dabbler  in  science,  Mr.  Holmes,  a  picker  up 
of  shells  on  the  shores  of  the  great  unknown  ocean. 
I  presume  that  it  is  Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes  whom  I 

am  addressing  and  not  " 

8 


MR.    SHERLOCK  HOLMES 


No,  this  is  my  friend  Dr.  Watson/' 
"  Glad  to  meet  you,  sir.  I  have  heard  your  name 
mentioned  in  connection  with  that  of  your  friend. 
You  interest  me  very  much,  Mr.  Holmes.  I  had 
hardly  expected  so  dolichocephalic  a  skull  or  such 
well-marked  supra-orbital  development.  Would 
you  have  any  objection  to  my  running  my  finger 
along  your  parietal  fissure?  A  cast  of  your  skull, 
sir,  until  the  original  is  available,  would  be  an  orna- 
ment to  any  anthropological  museum.  It  is  not  my 
intention  to  be  fulsome,  but  I  confess  that  I  covet 
your  skull.'' 

Sherlock  Holmes  waved  our  strange  visitor  into 
a  chair.  You  are  an  enthusiast  in  your  line  of 
thought,  I  perceive,  sir,  as  I  am  in  mine,"  said  he. 
"  I  observe  from  your  forefinger  that  you  make 
your  own  cigarettes.  Have  no  hesitation  in  light- 
ing one." 

The  man  drew  out  paper  and  tobacco  and  twirled 
the  one  up  in  the  other  with  surprising  dexterity. 
He  had  long,  quivering  fingers  as  agile  and  restless 
as  the  antennae  of  an  insect. 

Holmes  was  silent,  but  his  little  darting  glances 
showed  me  the  interest  which  he  took  in  our  curious 
companion. 

I  presume,  sir,"  said  he  at  last,  "  that  it  was  not 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  examining  my  skull  that 
you  have  done  me  the  honour  to  call  here  last  night 
and  again  to-day?  " 

"No,  sir,  no;  though  I  am  happy  to  have  had 

9 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

the  opportunity  of  doing  that  as  well.  I  came  to 
you,  Mr.  Holmes,  because  I  recognised  that  I  am 
myself  an  unpractical  man,  and  because  I  am  sud- 
denly confronted  with  a  most  serious  and  extraor- 
dinary problem.  Recognising,  as  I  do,  that  you  are 
the  second  highest  expert  in  Europe  " 

"  Indeed,  sir!  May  I  inquire  who  has  the  honour 
to  be  the  first?    asked  Holmes,  with  some  asperity. 

To  the  man  of  precisely  scientific  mind  the  work 
of  Monsieur  Bertillon  must  always  appeal  strongly." 

"  Then  had  you  not  better  consult  him?  " 
I  said,  sir,  to  the  precisely  scientific  mind.  But 
as  a  practical  man  of  affairs  it  is  acknowledged  that 
you  stand  alone.    I  trust,  sir,  that  I  have  not  inad- 
vertently " 

"  Just  a  little,''  said  Holmes.  "  I  think,  Dr.  Mor- 
timer, you  would  do  wisely  if  without  more  ado  you 
would  kindly  tell  me  plainly  what  the  exact  nature 
of  the  problem  is  in  which  you  demand  my  assist- 
ance.'' 


lO 


II 


The  Curse  of  the  Baskervilles 

I HAVE  in  my  pocket  a  manuscript/'  said  Dr. 
James  Mortimer. 
I  observed  it  as  you  entered  the  room," 
said  Holmes. 

It  is  an  old  manuscript." 

Early  eighteenth  century,  unless  it  is  a  forgery." 

"  How  can  you  say  that,  sir?  " 

"  You  have  presented  an  inch  or  two  of  it  to  my 
examination  all  the  time  that  you  have  been  talk- 
ing. It  would  be  a  poor  expert  who  could  not  give 
the  date  of  a  document  within  a  decade  or  so.  You 
may  possibly  have  read  my  little  monograph  upon 
the  subject.    I  put  that  at  1730." 

''The  exact  date  is  1742."  Dr.  Mortimer  drew 
it  from  his  breast-pocket.  "  This  family  paper  was 
committed  to  my  care  by  Sir  Charles  Baskerville, 
whose  sudden  and  tragic  death  some  three  months 
ago  created  so  much  excitement  in  Devonshire.  I 
may  say  that  I  was  his  personal  friend  as  well  as  his 
medical  attendant.  He  was  a  strong-minded  man, 
sir,  shrewd,  practical,  and  as  unimaginative  as  I  am 
myself.  Yet  he  took  this  document  very  seriously, 
and  his  mind  was  prepared  for  just  such  an  end  as 
did  eventually  overtake  him." 

II 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


Holmes  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  manuscript 
and  flattened  it  upon  his  knee. 

"  You  will  observe,  Watson,  the  alternative  use 
of  the  long  s  and  the  short.  It  is  one  of  several 
indications  which  enabled  me  to  fix  the  date." 

I  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  yellow  paper 
and  the  faded  script.    At  the  head  was  written: 

Baskerville  Hall,"  and  below,  in  large,  scrawling 
figures:  "  1742." 

"  It  appears  to  be  a  statement  of  some  sort." 
Yes,  it  is  a  statement  of  a  certain  legend  which 
runs  in  the  Baskerville  family." 

"  But  I  understand  that  it  is  something  more 
modern  and  practical  upon  which  you  wish  to  con- 
sult me?  " 

"  Most  modern.  A  most  practical,  pressing  mat- 
ter, which  must  be  decided  within  twenty-four 
hours.  But  the  manuscript  is  short  and  is  intimate- 
ly connected  with  the  affair.  With  your  permission 
I  will  read  it  to  you." 

Holmes  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  placed  his  fin- 
ger-tips together,  and  closed  his  eyes,  with  an  air 
of  resignation.  Dr.  Mortimer  turned  the  manu- 
script to  the  light  and  read  in  a  high,  crackling  voice 
the  following  curious,  old-world  narrative:— 

"  Of  the  origin  of  the  Hound  of  the  Baskervilles 
there  have  been  many  statements,  yet  as  I  come  in 
a  direct  line  from  Hugo  Baskerville,  and  as  I  had 
the  story  from  my  father,  who  also  had  it  from  his, 
I  have  set  it  down  with  all  belief  that  it  occurred 

12 


THE    CURSE    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

even  as  is  here  set  forth.  And  I  would  have  you 
believe,  my  sons,  that  the  same  Justice  which  pun- 
ishes sin  may  also  most  graciously  forgive  it,  and 
that  no  ban  is  so  heavy  but  that  by  prayer  and  re- 
pentance it  may  be  removed.  Learn  then  from  this 
story  not  to  fear  the  fruits  of  the  past,  but  rather 
to  be  circumspect  in  the  future,  that  those  foul  pas- 
sions whereby  our  family  has  suffered  so  grievously 
may  not  again  be  loosed  to  our  undoing. 

"  Know  then  that  in  the  time  of  the  Great  Re- 
bellion (the  history  of  which  by  the  learned  Lord 
Clarendon  I  most  earnestly  commend  to  your  at- 
tention) this  Manor  of  Baskerville  was  held  by 
Hugo  of  that  name,  nor  can  it  be  gainsaid  that  he 
was  a  most  wild,  profane,  and  godless  man.  This, 
in  truth,  his  neighbours  might  have  pardoned,  see- 
ing that  saints  have  never  flourished  in  those  parts, 
but  there  was  in  him  a  certain  wanton  and  cruel 
humour  which  made  his  name  a  byword  through 
the  West.  It  chanced  that  this  Hugo  came  to  love 
(if,  indeed,  so  dark  a  passion  may  be  known  under 
so  bright  a  name)  the  daughter  of  a  yeoman  who 
held  lands  near  the  Baskerville  estate.  But  the 
young  maiden,  being  discreet  and  of  good  repute, 
would  ever  avoid  him,  for  she  feared  his  evil  name. 
So  it  came  to  pass  that  one  Michaelmas  this  Hugo, 
with  five  or  six  of  his  idle  and  wicked  companions, 
stole  down  upon  the  farm  and  carried  off  the  maid- 
en, her  father  and  brothers  being  from  home,  as  he 
well  knew.    When  they  had  brought  her  to  the 

13 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

Hall  the  maiden  was  placed  in  an  upper  chamber, 
while  Hugo  and  his  friends  sat  down  to  a  long 
carouse,  as  was  their  nightly  custom.  Now,  the 
poor  lass  upstairs  was  like  to  have  her  wits  turned 
at  the  singing  and  shouting  and  terrible  oaths  which 
came  up  to  her  from  below,  for  they  say  that  the 
words  used  by  Hugo  Baskerville,  when  he  was  in 
wine,  were  such  as  might  blast  the  man  who  said 
them.  At  last  in  the  stress  of  her  fear  she  did  that 
which  might  have  daunted  the  bravest  or  most 
active  man,  for  by  the  aid  of  the  growth  of  ivy 
which  covered  (and  still  covers)  the  south  wall  she 
came  down  from  under  the  eaves,  and  so  homeward 
across  the  moor,  there  being  three  leagues  betwixt 
the  Hall  and  her  father's  farm. 

It  chanced  that  some  little  time  later  Hugo  left 
his  guests  to  carry  food  and  drink — with  other  worse 
things,  perchance — to  his  captive,  and  so  found  the 
cage  empty  and  the  bird  escaped.  Then,  as  it  would 
seem,  he  became  as  one  that  hath  a  devil,  for,  rush- 
ing down  the  stairs  into  the  dining-hall,  he  sprang 
upon  the  great  table,  flagons  and  trenchers  flying 
before  him,  and  he  cried  aloud  before  all  the  com- 
pany that  he  would  that  very  night  render  his  body 
and  soul  to  the  Powers  of  Evil  if  he  might  but  over- 
take the  wench.  And  while  the  revellers  stood 
aghast  at  the  fury  of  the  man,  one  more  wicked  or, 
it  may  be,  more  drunken  than  the  rest,  cried  out 
that  they  should  put  the  hounds  upon  her.  Where- 
at Hugo  ran  from  the  house,  crying  to  his  grooms 

14 


THE    CURSE    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

that  they  should  saddle  his  mare  and  unkennel  the 
pack,  and  giving  the  hounds  a  kerchief  of  the  maid's, 
he  swung  them  to  the  line,  and  so  of?  full  cry  in  the 
moonlight  over  the  moor. 

"  Now,  for  some  space  the  revellers  stood  agape, 
unable  to  understand  all  that  had  been  done  in  such 
haste.  But  anon  their  bemused  wits  awoke  to  the 
nature  of  the  deed  which  was  like  to  be  done  upon 
the  moorlands.  Everything  was  now  in  an  uproar, 
some  calling  for  their  pistols,  some  for  their  horses, 
and  some  for  another  flask  of  wine.  But  at  length 
some  sense  came  back  to  their  crazed  minds,  and 
the  whole  of  them,  thirteen  in  number,  took  horse 
and  started  in  pursuit.  The  moon  shone  clear 
above  them,  and  they  rode  swiftly  abreast,  taking 
that  course  which  the  maid  must  needs  have  taken 
if  she  were  to  reach  her  own  home. 

They  had  gone  a  mile  or  two  when  they  passed 
one  of  the  night  shepherds  upon  the  moorlands,  and 
they  cried  to  him  to  know  if  he  had  seen  the  hunt. 
And  the  man,  as  the  story  goes,  was  so  crazed  with 
fear  that  he  could  scarce  speak,  but  at  last  he  said 
that  he  had  indeed  seen  the  unhappy  maiden,  with 
the  hounds  upon  her  track.  '  But  I  have  seen  more 
than  that,'  said  he,  '  for  Hugo  Baskerville  passed 
me  upon  his  black  mare,  and  there  ran  mute  behind 
him  such  a  hound  of  hell  as  God  forbid  should  ever 
be  at  my  heels.'  So  the  drunken  squires  cursed  the 
shepherd  and  rode  onwards.  But  soon  their  skins 
turned  cold,  for  there  came  a  galloping  across  the 

IS 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

moor,  and  the  black  mare,  dabbled  with  white  froth, 
went  past  with  trailing  bridle  and  empty  saddle. 
Then  the  revellers  rode  close  together,  for  a  great 
fear  was  on  them,  but  they  still  followed  over  the 
moor,  though  each,  had  he  been  alone,  would  have 
been  right  glad  to  have  turned  his  horse's  head. 
Riding  slowly  in  this  fashion  they  came  at  last  upon 
the  hounds.  These,  though  known  for  their  valour 
and  their  breed,  were  whimpering  in  a  cluster  at  the 
head  of  a  deep  dip  or  goyal,  as  we  call  it,  upon  the 
moor,  some  slinking  away  and  some,  with  starting 
hackles  and  staring  eyes,  gazing  down  the  narrow 
valley  before  them. 

"  The  company  had  come  to  a  halt,  more  sober 
men,  as  you  may  guess,  than  when  they  started. 
The  most  of  them  would  by  no  means  advance,  but 
three  of  them,  the  boldest,  or  it  may  be  the  most 
drunken,  rode  forward  down  the  goyal.  Now,  it 
opened  into  a  broad  space  in  which  stood  two  of 
those  great  stones,  still  to  be  seen  there,  which  were 
set  by  certain  forgotten  peoples  in  the  days  of  old. 
The  moon  was  shining  bright  upon  the  clearing,  and 
there  in  the  centre  lay  the  unhappy  maid  where  she 
had  fallen,  dead  of  fear  and  of  fatigue.  But  it  was 
not  the  sight  of  her  body,  nor  yet  was  it  that  of  the 
body  of  Hugo  Baskerville  lying  near  her,  which 
raised  the  hair  upon  the  heads  of  these  three  dare- 
devil roysterers,  but  it  was  that,  standing  over 
Hugo,  and  plucking  at  his  throat,  there  stood  a  foul 
thing,  a  great,  black  beast,  shaped  like  a  hound,  yet 

i6 


THE    CURSE    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

larger  than  any  hound  that  ever  mortal  eye  has 
rested  upon.  And  even  as  they  looked  the  thing 
tore  the  throat  out  of  Hugo  Baskerville,  on  which, 
as  it  turned  its  blazing  eyes  and  dripping  jaws  upon 
them,  the  three  shrieked  with  fear  and  rode  for  dear 
life,  still  screaming,  across  the  moor.  One,  it  is 
said,  died  that  very  night  of  what  he  had  seen,  and 
the  other  twain  were  but  broken  men  for  the  rest 
of  their  days. 

"  Such  is  the  tale,  my  sons,  of  the  coming  of  the 
hound  which  is  said  to  have  plagued  the  family  so 
sorely  ever  since.  If  I  have  set  it  down  it  is  be- 
cause that  which  is  clearly  known  hath  less  terror 
than  that  which  is  but  hinted  at  and  guessed.  Nor 
can  it  be  denied  that  many  of  the  family  have  been 
unhappy  in  their  deaths,  which  have  been  sudden, 
bloody,  and  mysterious.  Yet  may  we  shelter  out- 
selves  in  the  infinite  goodness  of  Providence,  which 
would  not  forever  punish  the  innocent  beyond  that 
third  or  fourth  generation  which  is  threatened 
in  Holy  Writ.  To  that  Providence,  my  sons,  I 
hereby  commend  you,  and  I  counsel  you  by 
way  of  caution  to  forbear  from  crossing  the  moor 
in  those  dark  hours  when  the  powers  of  evil  are 
exalted. 

"  [This  from  Hugo  Baskerville  to  his  sons 
Rodger  and  John,  with  instructions  that  they  say 
nothing  thereof  to  their  sister  Elizabeth.]  " 

When  Dr.  Mortimer  had  finished  reading  this 
singular  narrative  he  pushed  his  spectacles  up  on 

17 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


his  forehead  and  stared  across  at  Mr.  Sherlock 
Holmes.  The  latter  yawned  and  tossed  the  end 
of  his  cigarette  into  the  fire. 

Well?'' said  he. 
)  "  Do  you  not  find  it  interesting? '' 
"  To  a  collector  of  fairy  tales." 
Dr.  Mortimer  drew  a  folded  newspaper  out  of  his 
pocket. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Holmes,  we  will  give  you  something 
a  little  more  recent.  This  is  the  Devon  County 
Chronicle  of  May  14th  of  this  year.  It  is  a  short 
account  of  the  facts  elicited  at  the  death  of  Sir 
Charles  Baskerville  which  occurred  a  few  days  be- 
fore that  date.'' 

My  friend  leaned  a  little  forward  and  his  expres- 
sion became  intent.  Our  visitor  readjusted  his 
glasses  and  began: — 

"  The  recent  sudden  death  of  Sir  Charles  Basker- 
ville, whose  name  has  been  mentioned  as  the  prob- 
able Liberal  candidate  for  Mid-Devon  at  the  next 
election,  has  cast  a  gloom  over  the  county.  Though 
Sir  Charles  had  resided  at  Baskerville  Hall  for  a 
comparatively  short  period  his  amiability  of  charac- 
ter and  extreme  generosity  had  won  the  afifection 
and  respect  of  all  who  had  been  brought  into  con- 
tact with  him.  In  these  days  of  nouveaux  riches  it 
is  refreshing  to  find  a  case  where  the  scion  of  an  old 
county  family  which  has  fallen  upon  evil  days  is  able 
to  make  his  own  fortune  and  to  bring  it  back  with 
him  to  restore  the  fallen  grandeur  of  his  line.  Sir 

18 


THE    CURSE    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

Charles,  as  is  well  known,  made  large  sums  of  money 
in  South  African  speculation.  More  wise  than 
those  who  go  on  until  the  wheel  turns  against  them, 
he  realized  his  gains  and  returned  to  England  with 
them.  It  is  only  two  years  since  he  took  up  his 
residence  at  Baskerville  Hall,  and  it  is  common  talk 
how  large  were  those  schemes  of  reconstruction  and 
improvement  which  have  been  interrupted  by  his 
death.  Being  himself  childless,  it  was  his  openly 
expressed  desire  that  the  whole  countryside  should, 
within  his  own  lifetime,  profit  by  his  good  fortune, 
and  many  will  have  personal  reasons  for  bewailing 
his  untimely  end.  His  generous  donations  to  local 
and  county  charities  have  been  frequently  chroni- 
cled in  these  columns. 

The  circumstances  connected  with  the  death  of 
Sir  Charles  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  entirely 
cleared  up  by  the  inquest,  but  at  least  enough  has 
been  done  to  dispose  of  those  rumours  to  which 
local  superstition  has  given  rise.  There  is  no  rea- 
son whatever  to  suspect  foul  play,  or  to  imagine  that 
death  could  be  from  any  but  natural  causes.  Sir 
Charles  was  a  widower,  and  a  man  who  may  be  said 
to  have  been  in  some  ways  of  an  eccentric  habit  of 
mind.  In  spite  of  his  considerable  wealth  he  was 
simple  in  his  personal  tastes,  and  his  indoor  servants 
at  Baskerville  Hall  consisted  of  a  married  couple 
named  Barrymore,  the  husband  acting  as  butler  and 
the  wife  as  housekeeper.  Their  evidence,  corrobo- 
rated by  that  of  several  friends,  tends  to  show  that 

19 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

Sir  Charles's  health  has  for  some  time  been  im- 
paired, and  points  especially  to  some  affection  of  the 
heart,  manifesting  itself  in  changes  of  colour,  breath- 
lessness,  and  acute  attacks  of  nervous  depression. 
Dr.  James  Mortimer,  the  friend  and  medical  at- 
tendant of  the  deceased,  has  given  evidence  to  the 
same  effect. 

"  The  facts  of  the  case  are  simple.  Sir  Charles 
Baskerville  was  in  the  habit  every  night  before  go- 
ing to  bed  of  walking  down  the  famous  Yew  Alley 
of  Baskerville  Hall.  The  evidence  of  the  Barry- 
mores  shows  that  this  had  been  his  custom.  On 
the  4th  of  May  Sir  Charles  had  declared  his  inten- 
tion of  starting  next  day  for  London,  and  had  or- 
dered Barrymore  to  prepare  his  luggage.  That 
night  he  went  out  as  usual  for  his  nocturnal  walk, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  smok- 
ing a  cigar.  He  never  returned.  At  twelve  o'clock 
Barrymore,  finding  the  hall  door  still  open,  became 
alarmed,  and,  lighting  a  lantern,  went  in  search  of 
his  master.  The  day  had  been  wet,  and  Sir 
Charles's  footmarks  were  easily  traced  down  the  Al- 
ley. Half-way  down  this  walk  there  is  a  gate  which 
leads  out  on  to  the  moor.  There  were  indications 
that  Sir  Charles  had  stood  for  some  little  time  here. 
He  then  proceeded  down  the  Alley,  and  it  was  at 
the  far  end  of  it  that  his  body  was  discovered.  One 
fact  which  has  not  been  explained  is  the  statement 
of  Barrymore  that  his  master's  footprints  altered 
their  character  from  the  time  that  he 'passed  the 

20 


THE    CURSE    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 


moor-gate,  and  that  he  appeared  from  thence  on- 
wards to  have  been  walking  upon  his  toes.  One 
Murphy,  a  gipsy  horse-dealer,  was  on  the  moor  at 
no  great  distance  at  the  time,  but  he  appears  by  his 
own  confession  to  have  been  the  worse  for  drink. 
He  declares  that  he  heard  cries,  but  is  unable  to 
state  from  wha"^  direction  they  came.  No  signs  of 
violence  were  to  be  discovered  upon  Sir  Charles's 
person,  and  though  the  doctor's  evidence  pointed 
to  an  almost  incredible  facial  distortion — so  great 
that  Dr.  Mortimer  refused  at  first  to  believe  that  it 
was  indeed  his  friend  and  patient  who  lay  before 
him — it  was  explained  that  that  is  a  symptom  which 
is  not  unusual  in  cases  of  dyspnoea  and  death 
from  cardiac  exhaustion.  This  explanation  was 
borne  out  by  the  post-mortem  examination,  which 
showed  long-standing  organic  disease,  and  the  coro- 
ner's jury  returned  a  verdict  in  accordance  with  the 
medical  evidence.  It  is  well  that  this  is  so,  for  it 
is  obviously  of  the  utmost  importance  that  Sir 
Charles's  heir  should  settle  at  the  Hall  and  continue 
the  good  work  which  has  been  so  sadly  interrupted. 
Had  the  prosaic  finding  of  the  coroner  not  finally 
put  an  end  to  the  romantic  stories  which  have  been 
whispered  in  connection  with  the  affair,  it  might 
have  been  difficult  to  find  a  tenant  for  Baskerville 
Hall.  It  is  understood  that  the  next-of-kin  is  Mr. 
Henry  Baskerville,  if  he  be  still  alive,  the  son  of  Sir 
Charles  Baskerville's  younger  brother.  The  young 
man  when  last  heard  of  was  in  America,  and  in- 


21 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

quiries  are  being  instituted  with  a  view  to  inform- 
ing him  of  his  good  fortune." 

Dr.  Mortimer  refolded  his  paper  and  replaced  it 
in  his  pocket. 

Those  are  the  public  facts,  Mr.  Holmes,  in  con- 
nection with  the  death  of  Sir  Charles  Baskerville." 

"  I  must  thank  you,"  said  Sherlock  Holmes,  for 
calling  my  attention  to  a  case  which  certainly  pre- 
sents some  features  of  interest.  I  had  observed 
some  newspaper  comment  at  the  time,  but  I  was  ex- 
ceedingly preoccupied  by  that  little  affair  of  the 
Vatican  cameos,  and  in  my  anxiety  to  oblige  the 
Pope  I  lost  touch  with  several  interesting  English 
cases.  This  article,  you  say,  contains  all  the  public 
facts?  " 

"  It  does." 

Then  let  me  have  the  private  ones."  He 
leaned  back,  put  his  finger-tips  together,  and  as- 
sumed his  most  impassive  and  judicial  expression. 

"  In  doing  so,"  said  Dr.  Mortimer,  who  had  be- 
gun to  show  signs  of  some  strong  emotion,  "  I  am 
telling  that  which  I  have  not  confided  to  anyone. 
My  motive  for  withholding  it  from  the  coroner's 
inquiry  is  that  a  man  of  science  shrinks  from  placing 
himself  in  the  public  position  of  seeming  to  indorse 
a  popular  superstition.  I  had  the  further  motive 
that  Baskerville  Hall,  as  the  paper  says,  would  cer- 
tainly remain  untenanted  if  anything  were  done  to 
increase  its  already  rather  grim  reputation.  For 
both  these  reasons  I  thought  that  I  was  justified  in 

22 


THE    CURSE    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 


telling  rather  less  than  I  knew,  since  no  practical 
good  could  result  from  it,  but  with  you  there  is  no 
reason  why  I  should  not  be  perfectly  frank. 

"  The  moor  is  very  sparsely  inhabited,  and  those 
who  live  near  each  other  are  thrown  very  much  to- 
gether. For  this  reason  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  Sir 
Charles  Baskerville.  With  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Frankland,  of  Lafter  Hall,  and  Mr.  Stapleton,  the 
naturalist,  there  are  no  other  men  of  education  with- 
in many  miles.  Sir  Charles  was  a  retiring  man,  but 
the  chance  of  his  illness  brought  us  together,  and  a 
community  of  interests  in  science  kept  us  so.  He 
had  brought  back  much  scientific  information  from 
South  Africa,  and  many  a  charming  evening  we 
have  spent  together  discussing  the  comparative 
anatomy  of  the  Bushman  and  the  Hottentot. 

"  Within  the  last  few  months  it  became  increas- 
ingly plain  to  me  that  Sir  Charles's  nervous  system 
was  strained  to  the  breaking  point.  He  had  taken 
this  legend  which  I  have  read  you  exceedingly  to 
heart — so  much  so  that,  although  he  would  walk  in 
his  own  grounds,  nothing  would  induce  him  to  go 
out  upon  the  moor  at  night.  Incredible  as  it  may 
appear  to  you,  Mr.  Holmes,  he  was  honestly  con- 
vinced that  a  dreadful  fate  overhung  his  family,  and 
certainly  the  records  which  he  was  able  to  give  of 
his  ancestors  were  not  encouraging.  The  idea  of 
some  ghastly  presence  constantly  haunted  him,  and 
on  more  than  one  occasion  he  has  asked  me 
whether  I  had  on  my  medical  journeys  at  night 

23 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

ever  seen  any  strange  creature  or  heard  the  baying 
of  a  hound.  The  latter  question  he  put  to  me  sev- 
eral times,  and  always  with  a  voice  which  vibrated 
with  excitement. 

"  I  can  well  remember  driving  up  to  his  house  in 
the  evening,  some  three  weeks  before  the  fatal 
event.  He  chanced  to  be  at  his  hall  door.  I  had 
descended  from  my  gig  and  was  standing  in  front 
of  him,  when  I  saw  his  eyes  fix  themselves  over  my 
shoulder,  and  stare  past  me  with  an  expression  of 
the  most  dreadful  horror.  I  whisked  round  and 
had  just  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  something  which 
I  took  to  be  a  large  black  calf  passing  at  the  head 
of  the  drive.  So  excited  and  alarmed  was  he  that 
I  was  compelled  to  go  down  to  the  spot  where  the 
animal  had  been  and  look  around  for  it.  It  was 
gone,  however,  and  the  incident  appeared  to  make 
the  worst  impression  upon  his  mind.  I  stayed  with 
him  all  the  evening,  and  it  was  on  that  occasion,  to 
explain  the  emotion  which  he  had  shown,  that  he 
confided  to  my  keeping  that  narrative  which  I  read 
to  you  when  first  I  came.  I  mention  this  small 
episode  because  it  assumes  some  importance  in  view 
of  the  tragedy  which  followed,  but  I  was  convinced 
at  the  time  that  the  matter  was  entirely  trivial  and 
that  his  excitement  had  no  justification. 

It  was  at  my  advice  that  Sir  Charles  was  about 
to  go  to  London.  His  heart  was,  I  knew,  affected, 
and  the  constant  anxiety  in  which  he  lived,  however 
chimerical  the  cause  of  it  might  be,  was  evidently 

24 


THE    CURSE    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

having  a  serious  effect  upon  his  health.  I  thought 
that  a  few  months  among  the  distractions  of  town 
would  send  him  back  a  new  man.  Mr.  Stapleton, 
a  mutual  friend  who  was  much  concerned  at  his 
state  of  health,  was  of  the  same  opinion.  At  the 
last  instant  came  this  terrible  catastrophe. 

"  On  the  night  of  Sir  Charles's  death  Barrymore 
the  butler,  who  made  the  discovery,  sent  Perkins  the 
groom  on  horseback  to  me,  and  as  I  was  sitting  up 
late  I  was  able  to  reach  Baskerville  Hall  within  an 
hour  of  the  event.  I  checked  and  corroborated  all 
the  facts  which  were  mentioned  at  the  inquest.  I 
followed  the  footsteps  down  the  Yew  Alley,  I  saw 
the  spot  at  the  moor-gate  where  he  seemed  to  have 
waited,  I  remarked  the  change  in  the  shape  of  the 
prints  after  that  point,  I  noted  that  there  were  no 
other  footsteps  save  those  of  Barrymore  on  the  soft 
gravel,  and  finally  I  carefully  examined  the  body, 
which  had  not  been  touched  until  my  arrival.  Sir 
Charles  lay  on  his  face,  his  arms  out,  his  fingers  dug 
into  the  ground,  and  his  features  convulsed  with 
some  strong  emotion  to  such  an  extent  that  I  could 
hardly  have  sworn  to  his  identity.  There  was  cer- 
tainly no  physical  injury  of  any  kind.  But  one  false 
statement  was  made  by  Barrymore  at  the  inquest. 
He  said  that  there  were  no  traces  upon  the  ground 
round  the  body.  He  did  not  observe  any.  But  I 
did — some  little  distance  ofif,  but  fresh  and  clear.'^ 

Footprints?  " 

Footprints." 

25 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  A  man's  or  a  woman's? 

Dr.  Mortimer  looked  strangely  at  us  for  an  in- 
stant, and  his  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper  as  he 
answered: — 

Mr.  Holmes,  they  were  the  footprints  of  a 
gigantic  hound! 


26 


Ill 


The  Problem 

I CONFESS  that  at  these  words  a  shudder 
passed  through  me.    There  was  a  thrill  in  the 
doctor's  voice  which  showed  that  he  was  him- 
self deeply  moved  by  that  which  he  told  us.  Holmes 
leaned  forward  in  his  excitement  and  his  eyes  had 
the  hard,  dry  glitter  which  shot  from  them  when 
he  was  keenly  interested. 
"  You  saw  this? 
"  As  clearly  as  I  see  you." 
"  And  you  said  nothing?  " 
"What  was  the  use?" 
"  How  was  it  that  no  one  else  saw  it?  " 
"The  marks  were  some  twenty  yards  from  the 
body  and  no  one  gave  them  a  thought.    I  don't 
suppose  I  should  have  done  so  had  I  not  known 
this  legend." 

"  There  are  many  sheep-dogs  on  the  moor?  " 
"  No  doubt,  but  this  was  no  sheep-dog." 
"  You  say  it  was  large?  " 
"  Enormous." 

"  But  it  had  not  approached  the  body?  " 
"No." 

"  What  sort  of  night  was  it?  " 

27 


THE    HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 


Damp  and  raw/' 
But  not  actually  raining? 
"  No/' 
What  is  the  alley  like?  " 

There  are  two  lines  of  old  yew  hedge,  twelve 
feet  high  and  impenetrable.  The  walk  in  the  cen- 
tre is  about  eight  feet  across." 

Is  there  anything  between  the  hedges  and  the 
walk? '' 

Yes,  there  is  a  strip  of  grass  about  six  feet 
broad  on  either  side." 

I  understand  that  the  yew  hedge  is  penetrated 
at  one  point  by  a  gate?  " 

Yes,  the  wicket-gate  which  leads  on  to  the 
moor." 

Is  there  any  other  opening?  " 
None." 

So  that  to  reach  the  Yew  Alley  one  either  has 
to  come  down  it  from  the  house  or  else  to  enter  it 
by  the  moor-gate?  " 

"  There  is  an  exit  through  a  summer-house  at  the 
far  end." 

Had  Sir  Charles  reached  this?  " 
"  No;  he  lay  about  fifty  yards  from  it." 
Now,  tell  me,  Dr.  Mortimer — and  this  is  im- 
portant— the  marks  which  you  saw  were  on  the 
path  and  not  on  the  grass?  " 

No  marks  could  show  on  the  grass." 
"  Were  they  on  the  same  side  of  the  path  as  the 
moor-gate? " 

28 


THE  PROBLEM 


"  Yes;  they  were  on  the  edge  of  the  path  on  the 
same  side  as  the  moor-gate." 

"  You  interest  me  exceedingly.  Another  point. 
Was  the  wicket-gate  closed?  " 

"  Closed  and  padlocked." 

"  How  high  was  it?  " 

"  About  four  feet  high." 

"  Then  anyone  could  have  got  over  it?  " 
Yes." 

"  And  what  marks  did  you  see  by  the  wicket- 
gate?  " 

"  None  in  particular." 

Good  Heaven!    Did  no  one  examine?  " 
*^  Yes,  I  examined  myself." 

And  found  nothing?  " 
"  It  was  all  very  confused.    Sir  Charles  had  evi- 
dently stood  there  for  five  or  ten  minutes." 
How  do  you  know  that?  " 
Because  the  ash  had  twice  dropped  from  his 
cigar." 

"Excellent!  This  is  a  colleague,  Watson,  after 
our  own  heart.    But  the  marks?  " 

"  He  had  left  his  own  marks  all  over  that  small 
patch  of  gravel.    I  could  discern  no  others." 

Sherlock  Holmes  struck  his  hand  against  his  knee 
with  an  impatient  gesture. 

If  I  had  only  been  there!  "  he  cried.  "  It  is  evi- 
dently a  case  of  extraordinary  interest,  and  one 
which  presented  immense  opportunities  to  the  sci- 
entific expert.    That  gravel  page  upon  which  I 

29 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

might  have  read  so  much  has  been  long  ere  this 
smudged  by  the  rain  and  defaced  by  the  clogs  of 
curious  peasants.  Oh,  Dr.  Mortimer,  Dr.  Morti- 
mer, to  think  that  you  should  not  have  called  me 
in!    You  have  indeed  much  to  answer  for.'' 

I  could  not  call  you  in,  Mr.  Holmes,  without 
disclosing  these  facts  to  the  world,  and  I  have  al- 
ready given  my  reasons  for  not  wishing  to  do  so. 

Besides,  besides  " 

"Why  do  you  hesitate?" 

There  is  a  realm  in  which  the  most  acute  and 
most  experienced  of  detectives  is  helpless." 

You  mean  that  the  thing  is  supernatural?  " 

I  did  not  positively  say  so." 

No,  but  you  evidently  think  it." 

Since  the  tragedy,  Mr.  Holmes,  there  have 
come  to  my  ears  several  incidents  which  are  hard 
to  reconcile  with  the  settled  order  of  Nature." 

For  example?  " 

I  find  that  before  the  terrible  event  occurred 
several  people  had  seen  a  creature  upon  the  moor 
which  corresponds  with  this  Baskerville  demon,  and 
which  could  not  possibly  be  any  animal  known  to 
science.  They  all  agreed  that  it  was  a  huge  creat- 
ure, luminous,  ghastly,  and  spectral.  I  have  cross- 
examined  these  men,  one  of  them  a  hard-headed 
countryman,  one  a  farrier,  and  one  a  moorland 
farmer,  who  all  tell  the  same  story  of  this  dreadful 
apparition,  exactly  corresponding  to  the  hell-hound 
of  the  legend.    I  assure  you  that  there  is  a  reign 

30 


THE  PROBLEM 


of  terror  in  the  district  and  that  it  is  a  hardy  man 
who  will  cross  the  moor  at  night." 

"  And  you,  a  trained  man  of  science,  beUeve  it  to 
be  supernatural? 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  believe." 

Holmes  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
I  have  hitherto  confined  my  investigations  to 
this  world,"  said  he.  In  a  modest  way  I  have 
combated  evil,  but  to  take  on  the  Father  of  Evil 
himself  would,  perhaps,  be  too  ambitious  a  task. 
Yet  you  must  admit  that  the  footmark  is  material." 

The  original  hound  was  material  enough  to  tug 
a  man's  throat  out,  and  yet  he  was  diabolical  as 
well." 

I  see  that  you  have  quite  gone  over  to  the  su- 
pernaturalists.  But  now.  Dr.  Mortimer,  tell  me 
this.  If  you  hold  these  views,  why  have  you  come 
to  consult  me  at  all?  You  tell  me  in  the  same 
breath  that  it  is  useless  to  investigate  Sir  Charles's 
death,  and  that  you  desire  me  to  do  it." 

I  did  not  say  that  I  desired  you  to  do  it." 

"  Then,  how  can  I  assist  you?  "  , 

"  By  advising  me  as  to  what  I  should  do  with  Sir 
Henry  Baskerville,  who  arrives  at  Waterloo  Sta- 
tion " — Dr.  Mortimer  looked  at  his  watch — "  in  ex- 
actly one  hour  and  a  quarter." 

"  He  being  the  heir?  " 
Yes.    On  the  death  of  Sir  Charles  we  inquired 
for  this  young  gentleman,  and  found  that  he  had 
been  farming  in  Canada.    From  the  accounts  which 

31 


THE   HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


have  reached  us  he  is  an  excellent  fellow  in  every 
way.  I  speak  now  not  as  a  medical  man  but  as  a 
trustee  and  executor  of  Sir  Charles's  will." 
There  is  no  other  claimant,  I  presume?  " 
"  None.  The  only  other  kinsman  whom  we  have 
been  able  to  trace  was  Rodger  Baskerville,  the 
youngest  of  three  brothers  of  whom  poor  Sir 
Charles  was  the  elder.  The  second  brother,  who 
died  young,  is  the  father  of  this  lad  Henry.  The 
third,  Rodger,  was  the  black  sheep  of  the  family. 
He  came  of  the  old  masterful  Baskerville  strain,  and 
was  the  very  image,  they  tell  me,  of  the  family  pict- 
ure of  old  Hugo.  He  made  England  too  hot  to 
hold  him,  fled  to  Central  America,  and  died  there 
in  1876  of  yellow  fever.  Henry  is  the  last  of  the 
Baskervilles.  In  one  hour  and  five  minutes  I  meet 
him  at  Waterloo  Station.  I  have  had  a  wire  that 
he  arrived  at  Southampton  this  morning.  Now, 
Mr.  Holmes,  what  would  you  advise  me  to  do  with 
him?  " 

"  Why  should  he  not  go  to  the  home  of  his 
fathers?" 

It  seems  natural,  does  it  not?  And  yet,  con- 
sider that  every  Baskerville  who  goes  there  meets 
with  an  evil  fate.  I  feel  sure  that  if  Sir  Charles 
could  have  spoken  with  me  before  his  death  he 
would  have  warned  me  against  bringing  this  the 
last  of  the  old  race,  and  the  heir  to  great  wealth,  to 
that  deadly  place.  And  yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
tile  prosperity  of  the  whole  poor,  bleak  country-side 

32 


THE  PROBLEM 


depends  upon  his  presence.  All  the  good  work 
which  has  been  done  by  Sir  Charles  will  crash  to 
the  ground  if  there  is  no  tenant  of  the  Hall.  I  fear 
lest  I  should  be  swayed  too  much  by  my  own  ob- 
vious interest  in  the  matter,  and  that  is  why  I  bring 
the  case  before  you  and  ask  for  your  advice." 

Holmes  considered  for  a  little  time. 

"  Put  into  plain  words,  the  matter  is  this,"  said 
he.  "  In  your  opinion  there  is  a  diabolical  agency 
which  makes  Dartmoor  an  unsafe  abode  for  a  Bas- 
kerville — that  is  your  opinion?  " 

At  least  I  might  go  the  length  of  saying  that 
there  is  some  evidence  that  this  may  be  so." 

Exactly.  But  surely,  if  your  supernatural  the- 
ory be  correct,  it  could  work  the  young  man  evil  in 
London  as  easily  as  in  Devonshire.  A  devil  with 
merely  local  powers  like  a  parish  vestry  would  be 
too  inconceivable  a  thing." 

"  You  put  the  matter  more  flippantly,  Mr. 
Holmes,  than  you  would  probably  do  if  you  were 
brought  into  personal  contact  with  these  things. 
Your  advice,  then,  as  I  understand  it,  is  that  the 
young  man  will  be  as  safe  in  Devonshire  as  in  Lon- 
don. He  comes  in  fifty  minutes.  What  would  you 
recommend?  " 

I  recommend,  sir,  that  you  take  a  cab,  call  off 
your  spaniel  who  is  scratching  at  my  front  door, 
and  proceed  to  Waterloo  to  meet  Sir  Henry  Bas- 
kerville." 

''And  then?" 

33 


1 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

And  then  you  will  say  nothing  to  him  at  all 
until  I  have  made  up  my  mind  about  the  matter." 

"  How  long  will  it  take  you  to  make  up  your 
mind?  " 

"  Twenty-four  hours.  At  ten  o'clock  to-mor- 
row, Dr.  Mortimer,  I  will  be  much  obliged  to  you 
if  you  will  call  upon  me  here,  and  it  will  be  of  help 
to  me  in  my  plans  for  the  future  if  you  will  bring 
Sir  Henry  Baskerville  with  you." 

"  I  will  do  so^  Mr.  Holmes."  He  scribbled  the 
appointment  on  his  shirt  cuff  and  hurried  oflf  in  his 
strange,  peering,  absent-minded  fashion.  Holmes 
stopped  him  at  the  head  of  the  stair. 

"  Only  one  more  question.  Dr.  Mortimer.  You 
say  that  before  Sir  Charles  Baskerville's  death  sev- 
eral people  saw  this  apparition  upon  the  moor?  " 

"  Three  people  did." 

"  Did  any  see  it  after?  " 
I  have  not  heard  of  any.'* 
Thank  you.    Good  morning." 

Holmes  returned  to  his  seat  with  that  quiet  look 
of  inward  satisfaction  which  meant  that  he  had  a 
congenial  task  before  him. 
Going  out,  Watson?  " 

"  Unless  I  can  help  you." 

"  No,  my  dear  fellow,  it  is  at  the  hour  of  action 
that  I  turn  to  you  for  aid.  But  this  is  splendid, 
really  unique  from  some  points  of  view.  When  you 
pass  Bradley's  would  you  ask  him  to  send  up  a 
pound  of  the  strongest  shag  tobacco?    Thank  you. 

34 


THE  PROBLEM 


It  would  be  as  well  if  you  could  make  it  convenient 
not  to  return  before  evening.  Then  I  should  be 
very  glad  to  compare  impressions  as  to  this  most 
interesting  problem  which  has  been  submitted  to  us 
this  morning." 

I  knew  that  seclusion  and  solitude  were  very 
necessary  for  my  friend  in  those  hours  of  intense 
mental  concentration  during  which  he  weighed 
every  particle  of  evidence,  constructed  alternative 
theories,  balanced  one  against  the  other,  and  made 
up  his  mind  as  to  which  points  were  essential  and 
which  immaterial.  I  therefore  spent  the  day  at  my 
club  and  did  not  return  to  Baker  Street  until  even- 
ing. It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  I  found  my- 
self in  the  sitting-room  once  more. 

My  first  impression  as  I  opened  the  door  was  that 
a  fire  had  broken  out,  for  the  room  was  so  filled 
with  smoke  that  the  light  of  the  lamp  upon  the 
table  was  blurred  by  it.  As  I  entered,  however,  my 
fears  were  set  at  rest,  for  it  was  the  acrid  fumes  of 
strong  coarse  tobacco  which  took  me  by  the  throat 
and  set  me  coughing.  Through  the  haze  I  had  a 
vague  vision  of  Holmes  in  his  dressing-gown  coiled 
up  in  an  arm-chair  with  his  black  clay  pipe  between 
his  lips.  Several  rolls  of  paper  lay  around  him. 
Caught  cold,  Watson?  "  said  he. 
No,  it's  this  poisonous  atmosphere." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  pretty  thick,  now  that  you  men- 
tion it." 

"Thick!    It  is  intolerable." 


35 


THE   HOUND    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

Open  the  window,  then!  You  have  been  at 
your  club  all  day,  I  perceive.'* 

"My  dear  Holmes!" 

"Am  I  right?'' 

"  Certainly,  but  how-  ?  " 

He  laughed  at  my  bewildered  expression. 

"  There  is  a  delightful  freshness  about  you,  Wat- 
son, which  makes  it  a  pleasure  to  exercise  any  small 
powers  which  I  possess  at  your  expense.  A  gentle- 
man goes  forth  on  a  showery  and  miry  day.  He 
returns  immaculate  in  the  evening  with  the  gloss 
still  on  his  hat  and  his  boots.  He  has  been  a  fixture 
therefore  all  day.  He  is  not  a  man  with  intimate 
friends.  Where,  then,  could  he  have  been?  Is  it 
'not  obvious?  " 

"  Well,  it  is  rather  obvious." 

"  The  world  is  full  of  obvious  things  which  no- 
body by  any  chance  ever  observes.  Where  do  you 
think  that  I  have  been?  " 

"  A  fixture  also." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  have  been  to  Devonshire." 
"Inspirit?" 

"  Exactly.  My  body  has  remained  in  this  arm- 
chair, and  has,  I  regret  to  observe,  consumed  in  my 
absence  two  large  pots  of  cof¥ee  and  an  incredible 
amount  of  tobacco.  After  you  left  I  sent  down  to 
Stamford's  for  the  Ordnance  map  of  this  portion  of 
the  moor,  and  my  spirit  has  hovered  over  it  all  day. 
I  flatter  myself  that  I  could  find  my  way  about." 

"  A  large  scale  map,  I  presume?  " 

36 


THE  PROBLEM 


Very  large/'  He  unrolled  one  section  and  held 
it  over  his  knee.  Here  you  have  the  particular 
district  which  concerns  us.  That  is  Baskerville 
Hall  in  the  middle." 

With  a  wood  round  it? 

"  Exactly.  I  fancy  the  Yew  Alley,  though  not 
marked  under  that  name,  must  stretch  along  this 
line,  with  the  moor,  as  you  perceive,  upon  the  right 
of  it.  This  small  clump  of  buildings  here  is  the 
hamlet  of  Grimpen,  where  our  friend  Dr.  Mortimer 
has  his  head-quarters.  Within  a  radius  of  five  miles 
there  are,  as  you  see,  only  a  very  few  scattered  dwell- 
ings. Here  is  Lafter  Hall,  which  was  mentioned  in 
the  narrative.  There  is  a  house  indicated  here 
which  may  be  the  residence  of  the  naturalist — Sta- 
pleton,  if  I  remember  right,  was  his  name.  Here 
are  two  moorland  farm-houses.  High  Tor  and  Foul- 
mire.  Then  fourteen  miles  away  the  great  convict 
prison  of  Princetown.  Between  and  around  these 
scattered  points  extends  the  desolate,  lifeless  moor. 
This,  then,  is  the  stage  upon  which  tragedy  has  been 
played,  and  upon  which  we  may  help  to  play  it 
again." 

"  It  must  be  a  wild  place." 

"  Yes,  the  setting  is  a  worthy  one.    If  the  devil 

did  desire  to  have  a  hand  in  the  affairs  of  men  " 

Then  you  are  yourself  inclining  to  the  super- 
natural explanation." 

"  The  devil's  agents  may  be  of  flesh  and  blood, 
may  they  not?    There  are  two  questions  waiting  for 

37 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

US  at  the  outset.  The  one  is  whether  any  crime  has 
been  committed  at  all;  the  second  is,  what  is  the 
crime  and  how  was  it  committed?  Of  course,  if 
Dr.  Mortimer's  surmise  should  be  correct,  and  we 
are  dealing  with  forces  outside  the  ordinary  laws  of 
Nature,  there  is  an  end  of  our  investigation.  But 
we  are  bound  to  exhaust  all  other  hypotheses  before 
falling  back  upon  this  one.  I  think  we'll  shut  that 
window  again,  if  you  don't  mind.  It  is  a  singular 
thing,  but  I  find  that  a  concentrated  atmosphere 
helps  a  concentration  of  thought.  I  have  not 
pushed  it  to  the  length  of  getting  into  a  box  to 
think,  but  that  is  the  logical  outcome  of  my  con- 
victions. Have  you  turned  the  case  over  in  your 
mind?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  thought  a  good  deal  of  it  in  the 
course  of  the  day." 

What  do  you  make  of  it?  " 
"  It  is  very  bewildering." 

"  It  has  certainly  a  character  of  its  own.  There 
are  points  of  distinction  about  it.  That  change  in 
the  footprints,  for  example.  What  do  you  make  of 
that?" 

"  Mortimer  said  that  the  man  had  walked  on  tip- 
toe down  that  portion  of  the  alley." 

He  only  repeated  what  some  fool  had  said  at 
the  inquest.    Why  should  a  man  walk  on  tiptoe 
down  the  alley?  " 
"  What  then?" 
He  was  running,  Watson — ^running  desperate- 

38 


THE  PROBLEM 


ly,  running  for  his  life,  running  until  he  burst  his 
heart  and  fell  dead  upon  his  face." 
Running  from  what?  " 

There  lies  our  problem.  There  are  indications 
that  the  man  was  crazed  with  fear  before  ever  he 
began  to  run." 

"  How  can  you  say  that?  " 

"  I  am  presuming  that  the  cause  of  his  fears  came 
to  him  across  the  moor.  If  that  were  so,  and  it 
seems  most  probable,  only  a  man  who  had  lost  his 
wits  would  have  run  from  the  house  instead  of  tow- 
ards it.  If  the  gipsy's  evidence  may  be  taken  as 
true,  he  ran  with  cries  for  help  in  the  direction  where 
help  was  least  likely  to  be.  Then,  again,  whom  was 
he  waiting  for  that  night,  and  why  was  he  waiting 
for  him  in  the  Yew  Alley  rather  than  in  his  own 
house?  " 

"  You  think  that  he  was  waiting  for  someone?  " 

"  The  man  was  elderly  and  infirm.  We  can  un- 
derstand his  taking  an  evening  stroll,  but  the  ground 
was  damp  and  the  night  inclement.  Is  it  natural 
that  he  should  stand  for  five  or  ten  minutes,  as  Dr. 
Mortimer,  with  more  practical  sense  than  I  should 
have  given  him  credit  for,  deduced  from  the  cigar 
ash?  " 

"  But  he  went  out  every  evening." 

"  I  think  it  unlikely  that  he  waited  at  the  moor- 
gate  every  evening.  On  the  contrary,  the  evidence 
is  that  he  avoided  the  moor.  That  night  he  waited 
there.    It  was  the  night  before  he  made  his  depart- 

39 


THE    HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

ure  for  London.  The  thing  takes  shape,  Watson. 
It  becomes  coherent.  Might  I  ask  you  to  hand  me 
my  violin,  and  we  will  postpone  all  further  thought 
upon  this  business  until  we  have  had  the  advantage 
of  meeting  Dr.  Mortimer  and  Sir  Henry  Baskerville 
in  the  morning.'' 


40 


IV 


Sir  Henry  Baskerville 

OUR  breakfast-table  was  cleared  early,  and 
Holmes  waited  in  his  dressing-gown  for 
the  promised  interview.  Our  clients  were 
punctual  to  their  appointment,  for  the  clock  had  just 
struck  ten  when  Dr.  Mortimer  was  shown  up,  fol- 
lowed by  the  young  ^baronet.  The  latter  was  a 
small,  alert,  dark-eyed  man  about  thirty  years  of 
age,  very  sturdily  built,  with  thick  black  eyebrows 
and  a  strong,  pugnacious  face.  He  wore  a  ruddy- 
tinted  tweed  suit,  and  had  the  weather-beaten  ap- 
pearance of  one  who  has  spent  most  of  his  time  in 
the  open  air,  and  yet  there  was  something  in  his 
steady  eye  and  the  quiet  assurance  of  his  bearing 
which  indicated  the  gentleman. 

"  This  is  Sir  Henry  Baskerville,"  said  Dr.  Mor- 
timer. 

"  Why,  yes,''  said  he,  "  and  the  strange  thing  is, 
Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes,  that  if  my  friend  here  had 
not  proposed  coming  round  to  you  this  morning  I 
should  have  come  on  my  own  account.  I  under- 
stand that  you  think  out  little  puzzles,  and  I've  had 
one  this  morning  which  wants  more  thinking  out 
than  I  am  able  to  give  to  it." 

"  Pray  take  a  seat.  Sir  Henry.   Do  I  understand 

41 


THE    HOUND    OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


you  to  say  that  you  have  yourself  had  some  re- 
markable experience  since  you  arrived  in  Lon- 
don?" 

"  Nothing  of  much  importance,  Mr.  Holmes. 
Only  a  joke,  as  like  as  not.  It  was  this  letter,  if 
you  can  call  it  a  letter,  which  reached  me  this  morn- 
mg. 

He  laid  an  envelope  upon  the  table,  and  we  all 
bent  over  it.  It  was  of  common  quality,  greyish  in 
colour.  The  address,  Sir  Henry  Baskerville, 
Northumberland  Hotel,"  was  printed  in  rough  char- 
acters; the  post-mark  Charing  Cross,"  and  the 
date  of  posting  the  preceding  evening. 

"  Who  knew  that  you  were  going  to  the  Nor- 
thumberland Hotel? "  asked  Holmes,  glancing 
keenly  across  at  our  visitor. 

No  one  could  have  known.  We  only  decided 
after  I  met  Dr.  Mortimer." 

But  Dr.  Mortimer  was  no  doubt  already  stop- 
ping there?  " 

"  No,  I  had  been  staying  with  a  friend,"  said  the 
doctor.  There  was  no  possible  indication  that  we 
intended  to  go  to  this  hotel." 

Hum!  Someone  seems  to  be  very  deeply  in- 
terested in  your  movements."  Out  of  the  envelope 
he  took  a  half-sheet  of  foolscap  paper  folded  into 
four.  This  he  opened  and  spread  flat  upon  the 
table.  Across  the  middle  of  it  a  single  sentence  had 
been  formed  by  the  expedient  of  pasting  printed 
words  upon  it.    It  ran:  **As  you  value  your  life 

42 


SIR    HENRY  BASKERVILLE 


or  your  reason  keep  away  from  the  moor."  The 
word    moor  "  only  was  printed  in  ink. 

"  Now,"  said  Sir  Henry  Baskerville,  "  perhaps 
you  will  tell  me,  Mr.  Holmes,  what  in  thunder  is 
the  meaning  of  that,  and  who  it  is  that  takes  so 
much  interest  in  my  affairs?  " 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it.  Dr.  Mortimer?  You 
must  allow  that  there  is  nothing  supernatural  about 
this,  at  any  rate?  " 

No,  sir,  but  it  might  very  well  come  from  some- 
one who  was  convinced  that  the  business  is  super- 
natural." 

"  What  business? "  asked  Sir  Henry,  sharply. 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  all  you  gentlemen  know 
a  great  deal  more  than  I  do  about  my  own  af- 
fairs." 

You  shall  share  our  knowledge  before  you  leave 
this  room,  Sir  Henry.  I  promise  you  that,"  said 
Sherlock  Holmes.  "  We  will  confine  ourselves  for 
the  present  with  your  permission  to  this  very  inter- 
esting document,  which  must  have  been  put  to- 
gether and  posted  yesterday  evening.  Have  you 
yesterday's  Times,  Watson?  " 
"  It  is  here  in  the  corner." 

"  Might  I  trouble  you  for  it — the  inside  page, 
please,  with  the  leading  articles? "  He  glanced 
swiftly  over  it,  running  his  eyes  up  and  down  the 
columns.  Capital  article  this  on  Free  Trade. 
Permit  me  to  give  you  an  extract  from  it.  '  You 
may  be  cajoled  into  imagining  that  your  own 

43 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

special  trade  or  your  own  industry  will  be  encour- 
aged by  a  protective  tariff,  but  it  stands  to  rea- 
son that  such  legislation  must  in  the  long  run  keep 
away  wealth  from  the  country,  diminish  the  value 
of  our  imports,  and  lower  the  general  conditions  of 
life  in  this  island/  What  do  you  think  of  that, 
Watson? cried  Holmes,  in  high  glee,  rubbing  his 
hands  together  with  satisfaction.  "  Don't  you 
think  that  is  an  admirable  sentiment? 

Dr.  Mortimer  looked  at  Holmes  with  an  air  of 
professional  interest,  and  Sir  Henry  Baskerville 
turned  a  pair  of  puzzled  dark  eyes  upon  me. 

I  don't  know  much  about  the  tariff  and  things 
of  that  kind,''  said  he;  "but  it  seems  to  me  we've 
got  a  bit  off  the  trail  so  far  as  that  note  is  con- 
cerned." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  think  we  are  particularly  hot 
upon  the  trail,  Sir  Henry.  Watson  here  knows 
more  about  my  methods  than  you  do,  but  I  fear  that 
even  he  has  not  quite  grasped  the  significance  of 
this  sentence." 

"  No,  I  confess  that  I  see  no  connection." 

"  And  yet,  my  dear  Watson,  there  is  so  very  close 
a  connection  that  the  one  is  extracted  out  of  the 
other.  '  You,'  '  your,'  '  your,'  '  life,'  '  reason,' 
*  value,'  ^  keep  away,'  ^  from  the.'  Don't  you  see 
now  whence  these  words  have  been  taken?  " 

By  thunder,  you're  right!  Well,  if  that  isn't 
smart! "  cried  Sir  Henry. 

"  If  any  possible  doubt  remained  it  is  settled  by 

44 


SIR    HENRY  BASKERVILLE 


the  fact  that  '  keep  away '  and  '  from  the '  are  cut 
out  in  one  piece." 

"Well,  now— so  it  is!'' 
Really,  Mr.  Holmes,  this  exceeds  anything 
which  I  could  have  imagined,"  said  Dr.  Mortimer, 
gazing  at  my  friend  in  amazement.  I  could  un- 
derstand anyone  saying  that  the  words  were  from 
a  newspaper;  but  that  you  should  name  which,  and 
add  that  it  came  from  the  leading  article,  is  really 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  things  which  I  have 
ever  known.    How  did  you  do  it?  " 

"  I  presume,  doctor,  that  you  could  tell  the  skull 
of  a  negro  from  that  of  an  Esquimaux?  " 
Most  certainly." 

"But  how?" 

"  Because  that  is  my  special  hobby.  The  differ- 
ences are  obvious.  The  supra-orbital  crest,  the 
facial  angle,  the  maxillary  curve,  the  " 

"  But  this  is  my  special  hobby,  and  the  differences 
are  equally  obvious.  There  is  as  much  difference 
to  my  eyes  between  the  leaded  bourgeois  type  of  a 
Times  article  and  the  slovenly  print  of  an  evening 
halfpenny  paper  as  there  could  be  between  your 
negro  and  your  Esquimaux.  The  detection  of 
types  is  one  of  the  most  elementary  branches  of 
knowledge  to  the  special  expert  in  crime,  though  I 
confess  that  once  when  I  was  very  young  I  confused 
the  Leeds  Mercury  with  the  Western  Morning  News. 
But  a  Times  leader  is  entirely  distinctive,  and  these 
words  could  have  been  taken  from  nothing  else. 

45 


THE  HOUND    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 


As  it  was  done  yesterday  the  strong  probability  was 
that  we  should  find  the  words  in  yesterday's  issue." 

So  far  as  I  can  follow  you,  then,  Mr.  Holmes,'* 
said  Sir  Henry  Baskerville,  someone  cut  out  this 
message  with  a  scissors  " 

Nail-scissors,"  said  Holmes.  You  can  see 
that  it  was  a  very  short-bladed  scissors,  since  the 
cutter  had  to  take  two  snips  over  '  keep  away.'  " 

That  is  so.  Someone,  then,  cut  out  the  mes- 
sage with  a  pair  of  short-bladed  scissors,  pasted  it 
with  paste  " 

Gum,"  said  Holmes. 

With  gum  on  to  the  paper.  But  I  want  to 
know  why  the  word  '  moor '  should  have  been  writ- 
ten? " 

Because  he  could  not  find  it  in  print.  The 
other  words  were  all  simple  and  might  be  found  in 
any  issue,  but  *  moor '  would  be  less  common." 

Why,  of  course,  that  would  explain  it.  Have 
you  read  anything  else  in  this  message,  Mr. 
Holmes?" 

There  are  one  or  two  indications,  and  yet  the 
utmost  pains  have  been  taken  to  remove  all  clues. 
The  address,  you  observe,  is  printed  in  rough  char- 
acters. But  the  Times  is  a  paper  which  is  seldom 
found  in  any  hands  but  those  of  the  highly  educated. 
We  may  take  it,  therefore,  that  the  letter  was  com- 
posed by  an  educated  man  who  wished  to  pose  as 
an  uneducated  one,  and  his  effort  to,  conceal  his  own 
writing  suggests  that  that  writing  might  be  known, 

46 


SIR    HENRY  BASKERVILLE 

or  come  to  be  known,  by  you.  Again,  you  will  ob- 
serve that  the  words  are  not  gummed  on  in  an  ac- 
curate line,  but  that  some  are  much  higher  than 
others.  *  Life,'  for  example,  is  quite  out  of  its 
proper  place.  That  may  point  to  carelessness  or 
it  may  point  to  agitation  and  hurry  upon  the  part 
of  the  cutter.  On  the  whole  I  incline  to  the  latter 
view,  since  the  matter  was  evidently  important,  and 
it  is  unlikely  that  the  composer  of  such  a  letter 
would  be  careless.  If  he  were  in  a  hurry  it  opens 
up  the  interesting  question  why  he  should  be  in  a 
hurry,  since  any  letter  posted  up  to  early  morning 
would  reach  Sir  Henry  before  he  would  leave  his 
hotel.  Did  the  composer  fear  an  interruption — 
and  from  whom?  " 

"  We  are  coming  now  rather  into  the  region  of 
guess  work,''  said  Dr.  Mortimer. 

"  Say,  rather,  into  the  region  where  we  balance 
probabilities  and  choose  the  most  likely.  It  is  the 
scientific  use  of  the  imagination,  but  we  have  always 
some  material  basis  on  which  to  start  our  specula- 
tions. Now,  you  would  call  it  a  guess,  no  doubt, 
but  I  am  almost  certain  that  this  address  has  been 
written  in  an  hotel." 

"  How  in  the  world  can  you  say  that? 

"  If  you  examine  it  carefully  you  will  see  that 
both  the  pen  and  the  ink  have  given  the  writer 
trouble.  The  pen  has  spluttered  twice  in  a  single 
word,  and  has  run  dry  three  times  in  a  short  ad- 
dress, showing  that  there  was  very  little  ink  in  the 

47 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

bottle.  Now,  a  private  pen  or  ink-bottle  is  seldom 
allowed  to  be  in  such  a  state,  and  the  combination 
of  the  two  must  be  quite  rare.  But  you  know  the 
hotel  ink  and  the  hotel  pen,  where  it  is  rare  to  get 
anything  else.  Yes,  I  have  very  little  hesitation  in 
saying  that  could  we  examine  the  waste-paper  bas- 
kets of  the  hotels  round  Charing  Cross  until  we 
found  the  remains  of  the  mutilated  Times  leader 
we  could  lay  our  hands  straight  upon  the  person 
who  sent  this  singular  message.  Halloa !  Halloa ! 
What's  this?  " 

He  was  carefully  examining  the  foolscap,  upon 
which  the  words  were  pasted,  holding  it  only  an 
inch  or  two  from  his  eyes. 

"Well?" 

Nothing,"  said  he,  throwing  it  down.  "  It  is  a 
blank  half-sheet  of  paper,  without  even  a  watermark 
upon  it.  I  think  we  have  drawn  as  much  as  we 
can  from  this  curious  letter;  and  now,  Sir  Henry, 
has  anything  else  of  interest  happened  to  you  since 
you  have  been  in  London?  " 

Why,  no,  Mr.  Holmes.    I  think  not." 

You  have  not  observed  anyone  follow  or  watch 
you?  " 

"  I  seem  to  have  walked  right  into  the  thick  of  a 
dime  novel,"  said  our  visitor.  Why  in  thunder 
should  anyone  follow  or  watch  me?  " 

"  We  are  coming  to  that.  You  have  nothing 
'else  to  report  to  us  before  we  go  into  this  mat- 
ter? " 

48 


SIR    HENRY  BASKERVILLE 


"Well,  it  depends  upon  what  you  think  worth 
reporting." 

I  think  anything  out  of  the  ordinary  routine  of 
life  well  worth  reporting." 
Sir  Henry  smiled. 

"  I  don't  know  much  of  British  life  yet,  for  I  have 
spent  nearly  all  my  time  in  the  States  and  in  Canada. 
But  I  hope  that  to  lose  one  of  your  boots  is  not 
part  of  the  ordinary  routine  of  life  over  here." 

"  You  have  lost  one  of  your  boots?  " 
My  dear  sir,"  cried  Dr.  Mortimer,  "  it  is  only 
mislaid.    You  will  find  it  when  you  return  to  the 
hotel.    What  is  the  use  of  troubling  Mr.  Holmes 
with  trifles  of  this  kind?  " 

Well,  he  asked  me  for  anything  outside  the  or- 
dinary routine." 

Exactly,"  said  Holmes,  "  however  foolish  the 
incident  may  seem.  You  have  lost  one  of  your 
boots,  you  say?  " 

Well,  mislaid  it,  anyhow.  I  put  them  both  out- 
side my  door  lastt^night,  and  there  was  only  one  in 
the  morning.  I  could  get  no  sense  out  of  the  chap 
who  cleans  them.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  I  only 
bought  the  pair  last  night  in  the  Strand,  and  I  have 
never  had  them  on." 

"  If  you  have  never  worn  them,  why  did  you  put 
them  out  to  be  cleaned?  " 

"  They  were  tan  boots,  and  had  never  been  var- 
nished.   That  was  why  I  put  them  out." 

"  Then  I  understand  that  on  your  arrival  in  Lon- 

49 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


don  yesterday  you  went  out  at  once  and  bought  a 
pair  of  boots? 

I  did  a  good  deal  of  shopping.  Dr.  Mortimer 
here  went  round  with  me.  You  see,  if  I  am  to  be 
squire  down  there  I  must  dress  the  part,  and  it  may 
be  that  I  have  got  a  little  careless  in  my  ways  out 
West.  Among  other  things  I  bought  these  brown 
boots — gave  six  dollars  for  them — and  had  one 
stolen  before  ever  I  had  them  on  my  feet." 

"  It  seems  a  singularly  useless  thing  to  steal,''  said 
Sherlock  Holmes.  "  I  confess  that  I  share  Dr. 
Mortimer's  belief  that  it  will  not  be  long  before  the 
missing  boot  is  found." 

"And,  now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  baronet,  with 
decision,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  spoken  quite 
enough  about  the  little  that  I  know.  It  is  time  that 
you  kept  your  promise  and  gave  me  a  full  account 
of  what  we  are  all  driving  at." 

"  Your  request  is  a  very  reasonable  one,"  Holmes 
answered.  Dr.  Mortimer,  I  think  you  could  not 
do  better  than  to  tell  your  story  as  you  told  it  to 
us.'^ 

Thus  encouraged,  our  scientific  friend  drew  his 
papers  from  his  pocket,  and  presented  the  whole  case 
as  he  had  done  upon  the  morning  before.  Sir 
Henry  Baskerville  listened  with  the  deepest  at- 
tention, and  with  an  occasional  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise. 

"  Well,  I  seem  to  have  come  into  an  inheritance 
with  a  vengeance,"  said  he,  when  the  long  narrative 

50 


SIR    HENRY  BASKERVILLE 


was  finished.  "  Of  course,  I've  heard  of  the  hound 
ever  since  I  was  in  the  nursery.  It's  the  pet  story 
of  the  family,  though  I  never  thought  of  taking  it 
seriously  before.  But  as  to  my  uncle's  death — 
well,  it  all  seems  boiling  up  in  my  head,  and  I  can't 
get  it  clear  yet.  You  don't  seem  quite  to  have 
made  up  your  mind  whether  it's  a  case  for  a  police- 
man or  a  clergyman." 
"Precisely." 

"  And  now  there's  this  af¥air  of  the  letter  to  me 
at  the  hotel.    I  suppose  that  fits  into  its  place." 

"  It  seems  to  show  that  someone  knows  more 
than  we  do  about  what  goes  on  upon  the  moor," 
said  Dr.  Mortimer. 

And  also,"  said  Holmes,  "  that  someone  is  not 
ill-disposed  towards  you,  since  they  warn  you  of 
danger." 

Or  it  may  be  that  they  wish,  for  their  own  pur- 
poses, to  scare  me  away." 

"  Well,  of  course,  that  is  possible  also.  I  am 
very  much  indebted  to  you.  Dr.  Mortimer,  for  in- 
troducing me  to  a  problem  which  presents  several 
interesting  alternatives.  But  the  practical  point 
which  we  now  have  to  decide.  Sir  Henry,  is  whether 
it  is  or  is  not  advisable  for  you  to  go  to  Baskerville 
Hall." 

"  Why  should  I  not  go?" 
"  There  seems  to  be  danger." 
"  Do  you  mean  danger  from  this  family  fiend  or 
do  you  mean  danger  from  human  beings?  " 

51 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

Well,  that  is  what  we  have  to  find  out." 

"  Whichever  it  is,  my  answer  is  fixed.  There  is 
no  devil  in  hell,  Mr.  Holmes,  and  there  is  no  man 
upon  earth  who  can  prevent  me  from  going  to  the 
home  of  my  own  people,  and  you  may  take  that  to 
be  my  final  answer."  His  dark  brows  knitted  and 
his  face  flushed  to  a  dusky  red  as  he  spoke.  It  was 
evident  that  .the  fiery  temper  of  the  Baskervilles  was 
not  extinct  in  this  their  last  representative.  Mean- 
while," said  he,  I  have  hardly  had  time  to  think 
over  all  that  you  have  told  me.  It's  a  big  thing  for 
a  man  to  have  to  understand  and  to  decide  at  one 
sitting.  I  should  like  to  have  a  quiet  hour  by  my- 
self to  make  up  my  mind.  Now,  look  here,  Mr. 
Holmes,  it's  half-past  eleven  now  and  I  am  going 
back  right  away  to  my  hotel.  Suppose  you  and 
your  friend.  Dr.  Watson,  come  round  and  lunch 
with  us  at  two?  Til  be  able  to  tell  you  more  clearly 
then  how  this  thing  strikes  me." 

Is  that  convenient  to  you,  Watson?  " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  Then  you  may  expect  us.  Shall  I  have  a  cab 
called?  " 

Fd  prefer  to  walk,  for  this  afifair  has  flurried  me 
rather." 

"  ril  join  you  in  a  walk,  with  pleasure,"  said  his 
companion. 

"  Then  we  meet  again  at  two  o'clock.  Au  revoir, 
and  good  morning! " 

We  heard  the  steps  of  our  visitors  descend  the 

52 


SIR    HENRY  BASKERVILLE 

stair  and  the  bang  of  the  front  door.  In  an  instant 
Holmes  had  changed  from  the  languid  dreamer  to 
the  man  of  action. 

"Your  hat  and  boots,  Watson,  quick!  Not  a 
moment  to  lose!  "  He  rushed  into  his  room  in  his 
dressing-gown  and  was  back  again  in  a  few  seconds 
in  a  frock-coat.  We  hurried  together  down  the 
stairs  and  into  the  street.  Dr.  Mortimer  and  Bas- 
kerville  were  still  visible  about  two  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  us  in  the  direction  of  Oxford  Street. 

"  Shall  I  run  on  and  stop  them?  " 

"  Not  for  the  world,  my  dear  Watson.  I  am  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  your  company  if  you  will  tol- 
erate mine.  Our  friends  are  wise,  for  it  is  certainly 
a  very  fine  morning  for  a  walk.'* 

He  quickened  his  pace  until  we  had  decreased 
the  distance  which  divided  us  by  about  half.  Then, 
still  keeping  a  hundred  yards  behind,  we  followed 
into  Oxford  Street  and  so  down  Regent  Street. 
Once  our  friends  stopped  and  stared  into  a  shop 
window,  upon  which  Holmes  did  the  same.  An  in- 
stant afterwards  he  gave  a  little  cry  of  satisfaction, 
and,  following  the  direction  of  his  eager  eyes,  I  saw 
that  a  hansom  cab  with  a  man  inside  which  had 
halted  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  was  now  walk- 
ing slowly  onwards  again. 

"There's  our  man,  Watson!  Come  along! 
We'll  have  a  good  look  at  him,  if  we  can  do  no 
more." 

At  that  instant  I  was  aware  of  a  bushy  black 

53 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

beard  and  a  pair  of  piercing  eyes  turned  upon  us 
through  the  side  window  of  the  cab.  Instantly  the 
trap-door  at  the  top  flew  up,  something  was 
screamed  to  the  driver,  and  the  cab  flew  madly  off 
down  Regent  Street.  Holmes  looked  eagerly 
round  for  another,  but  no  empty  one  was  in  sight. 
Then  he  dashed  in  wild  pursuit  amid  the  stream  of 
the  traffic,  but  the  start  was  too  great,  and  already 
the  cab  was  out  of  sight. 

"There  now!''  said  Holmes,  bitterly,  as  he 
emerged  panting  and  white  with  vexation  from  the 
tide  of  vehicles.  "  Was  ever  such  bad  luck  and 
such  bad  management,  too?  Watson,  Watson,  if 
you  are  an  honest  man  you  will  record  this  also  and 
set  it  against  my  successes! 

"  Who  was  the  man?  " 

"  I  have  not  an  idea." 

"  A  spy? '' 

"  Well,  it  was  evident  from  what  we  have  heard 
that  Baskerville  has  been  very  closely  shadowed  by 
someone  since  he  has  been  in  town.  How  else 
could  it  be  known  so  quickly  that  it  was  the  Nor- 
thumberland Hotel  which  he  had  chosen?  If  they 
had  followed  him  the  first  day  I  argued  that  they 
would  follow  him  also  the  second.  You  may  have 
observed  that  I  twice  strolled  over  to  the  window 
while  Dr.  Mortimer  was  reading  his  legend.'' 

"  Yes,  I  remember." 

"  I  was  looking  out  for  loiterers  in  the  street,  but 
I  saw  none.    We  are  dealing  with  a  clever  man, 

54 


I  was  aware  of  a  bushv  black  beard  and  a  pair  of 
piercing  eyes  turned  upon  us. 


SIR    HENRY  BASKERVILLE 

Watson.  This  matter  cuts  very  deep,  and  though 
I  have  not  finally  made  up  my  mind  whether  it  is 
a  benevolent  or  a  malevolent  agency  which  is  in 
touch  with  us,  I  am  conscious  always  of  power  and 
design.  When  our  friends  left  I  at  once  followed 
them  in  the  hopes  of  marking  down  their  invisible 
attendant.  So  wily  was  he  that  he  had  not  trusted 
himself  upon  foot,  but  he  had  availed  himself  of  a 
cab,  so  that  he  could  loiter  behind  or  dash  past  them 
and  so  escape  their  notice.  His  method  had  the 
additional  advantage  that  if  they  were  to  take  a  cab 
he  was  all  ready  to  follow  them.  It  has,  however, 
one  obvious  disadvantage." 

It  puts  him  in  the  power  of  the  cabman.'' 

"  Exactly." 
What  a  pity  we  did  not  get  the  number!  " 

"  My  dear  Watson,  clumsy  as  I  have  been,  you 
surely  do  not  seriously  imagine  that  I  neglected  to 
get  the  number?  2704  is  our  man.  But  that  is  no 
use  to  us  for  the  moment." 

"  I  fail  to  see  how  you  could  have  done  more." 

"  On  observing  the  cab  I  should  have  instantly 
turned  and  walked  in  the  other  direction.  I  should 
then  at  my  leisure  have  hired  a  second  cab  and  fol- 
lowed the  first  at  a  respectful  distance,  or,  better 
still,  have  driven  to  the  Northumberland  Hotel  and 
waited  there.  When  our  unknown  had  followed 
Baskerville  home  we  should  have  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  playing  his  own  game  upon  himself,  and 
seeing  where  he  made  for.    As  it  is,  by  an  indiscreet 

55 


THE    HOUND  OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

eagerness,  which  was  taken  advantage  of  with  ex- 
traordinary quickness  and  energy  by  our  opponent, 
we  have  betrayed  ourselves  and  lost  our  man." 

We  had  been  sauntering  slowly  down  Regent 
Street  during  this  conversation,  and  Dr.  Mortimer, 
with  his  companion,  had  long  vanished  in  front  of 
us. 

There  is  no  object  in  our  following  them,"  said 
Holmes.  "  The  shadow  has  departed  and  will  not 
return.  We  must  see  what  further  cards  we  have 
in  our  hands,  and  play  them  with  decision.  Could 
you  swear  to  that  man's  face  within  the  cab?  " 

"  I  could  swear  only  to  the  beard." 
And  so  could  I — from  which  I  gather  that  in  all 
probability  it  was  a  false  one.    A  clever  man  upon 
so  delicate  an  errand  has  no  use  for  a  beard  save  to 
conceal  his  features.    Come  in  here,  Watson!  " 

He  turned  into  one  of  the  district  messenger  of- 
fices, where  he  was  warmly  greeted  by  the  manager. 

"  Ah,  Wilson,  I  see  you  have  not  forgotten  the 
little  case  in  which  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  help 
you?" 

"  No,  sir,  indeed  I  have  not.  You  saved  my 
good  name,  and  perhaps  my  life." 

My  dear  fellow,  you  exaggerate.  I  have  some 
recollection,  Wilson,  that  you  had  among  your  boys 
a  lad  named  Cartwright,  who  showed  some  ability 
during  the  investigation." 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  is  still  with  us.*' 

"  Could  you  ring  him  up? — thank  you!    And  I 

56 


SIR    HENRY  BASKERVILLE 

should  be  glad  to  have  change  of  this  five-pound 
note." 

A  lad  of  fourteen,  with  a  bright,  keen  face,  had 
obeyed  the  summons  of  the  manager.  He  stood 
now  gazing  with  great  reverence  at  the  famous  de- 
tective. 

"  Let  me  have  the  Hotel  Directory,"  said 
Holmes.  "  Thank  you !  Now,  Cartwright,  there 
are  the  names  of  twenty-three  hotels  here,  all  in  the 
immediate  neighbourhood  of  Charing  Cross.  Do 
you  see?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  will  visit  each  of  these  in  turn." 
''Yes,  sir." 

"  You  will  begin  in  each  case  by  giving  the  out- 
side porter  one  shilling.  Here  are  twenty-three 
shillings." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  will  tell  him  that  you  want  to  see  the  waste 
paper  of  yesterday.    You  will  say  that  an  important 
telegram  has  miscarried  and  that  you  are  looking 
for  it.    You  understand?  " 
Yes,  sir." 

"  But  what  you  are  really  looking  for  is  the  cen- 
tre page  of  the  Times  with  some  holes  cut  in  it  with 
scissors.  Here  is  a  copy  of  the  Times,  It  is  this 
page.  You  could  easily  recognise  it,  could  you 
not?" 

Yes,  sir." 

"  In  each  case  the  outside  porter  will  send  for 

57 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

the  hall  porter,  to  whom  also  you  will  give  a  shil- 
ling. Here  are  twenty-three  shillings.  You  will 
then  learn  in  possibly  twenty  cases  out  of  the 
twenty-three  that  the  waste  of  the  day  before  has 
been  burned  or  removed.  In  the  three  other  cases 
you  will  be  shown  a  heap  of  paper  and  you  will  look 
for  this  page  of  the  Times  among  it.  The  odds  are 
enormously  against  your  finding  it.  There  are  ten 
shillings  over  in  case  of  emergencies.  Let  me  have 
a  report  by  wire  at  Baker  Street  before  evening. 
And  now,  Watson,  it  only  remains  for  us  to  find  out 
by  wire  the  identity  of  the  cabman,  No.  2704,  and 
then  we  will  drop  into  one  of  the  Bond  Street  pict- 
ure galleries  and  fill  in  the  time  until  we  are  due  at 
the  hotel." 


58 


V 


Three  Broken  Threads 

SHERLOCK  HOLMES  had,  in  a  very  re- 
markable degree,  the  power  of  detaching  his 
mind  at  will.  For  two  hours  the  strange  busi- 
ness in  which  we  had  been  involved  appeared  to  be 
forgotten,  and  he  was  entirely  absorbed  in  the  pict- 
ures of  the  modern  Belgian  masters.  He  would 
talk  of  nothing  but  art,  of  which  he  had  the  crudest 
ideas,  from  our  leaving  the  gallery  until  we  found 
ourselves  at  the  Northumberland  Hotel. 

"  Sir  Henry  Baskerville  is  upstairs  expecting 
you,"  said  the  clerk.  He  asked  me  to  show  you 
up  at  once  when  you  came." 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  my  looking  at  your 
register?  "  said  Holmes. 
Not  in  the  least." 
The  book  showed  that  two  names  had  been  added 
after  that  of  Baskerville.  One  was  Theophilus 
Johnson  and  family,  of  Newcastle;  the  other  Mrs. 
Oldmore  and  maid,  of  High  Lodge,  Alton. 

"  Surely  that  must  be  the  same  Johnson  whom  I 
used  to  know,"  said  Holmes  to  the  porter.  A 
lawyer,  is  he  not,  grey-headed,  and  walks  with  a 
limp?  " 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  No,  sir,  this  is  Mr.  Johnson,  the  coal-owner,  a 
very  active  gentleman,  not  older  than  yourself/' 

"  Surely  you  are  mistaken  about  his  trade? 

"  No,  sir;  he  has  used  this  hotel  for  many  years, 
and  he  is  very  well  known  to  us." 

"  Ah,  that  settles  it.  Mrs.  Oldmore,  too;  I  seem 
to  remember  the  name.  Excuse  my  curiosity,  but 
often  in  calling  upon  one  friend  one  finds  another." 

She  is  an  invalid  lady,  sir.  Her  husband  was 
once  Mayor  of  Gloucester.  She  always  comes  to 
us  when  she  is  in  town." 

"  Thank  you;  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  claim  her  ac- 
quaintance. We  have  established  a  most  important 
fact  by  these  questions,  Watson,"  he  continued,  in  a 
low  voice,  as  we  went  upstairs  together.  "  We 
know  now  that  the  people  who  are  so  interested  in 
our  friend  have  not  settled  down  in  his  own  hotel. 
That  means  that  while  they  are,  as  we  have  seen, 
very  anxious  to  watch  him  they  are  equally  anxious 
that  he  should  not  see  them.  Now,  this  is  a  most 
suggestive  fact." 

"  What  does  it  suggest?  " 

"  It  suggests — halloa,  my  dear  fellow,  what  on 
earth  is  the  matter?  " 

As  we  came  round  the  top  of  the  stairs  we  had 
run  up  against  Sir  Henry  Baskerville  himself.  His 
face  was  flushed  with  anger,  and  he  held  an  old  and 
dusty  boot  in  one  of  his  hands.  So  furious  was  he 
that  he  was  hardly  articulate,  and  when  he  did  speak 
it  was  in  a  much  broader  and  more  Western  dialect 

60 


THREE    BROKEN  THREADS 


than  any  which  we  had  heard  from  him  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

"  Seems  to  me  they  are  playing  me  for  a  sucker 
in  this  hotel/'  he  cried.  They'll  find  they've 
started  in  to  monkey  with  the  wrong  man  unless 
they  are  careful.  By  thunder,  if  that  chap  can't  find 
my  missing  boot  there  will  be  trouble.  I  can  take 
a  joke  with  the  best,  Mr.  Holmes,  but  they've  got  a 
bit  over  the  mark  this  time." 

Still  looking  for  your  boot?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  mean  to  find  it." 

"  But,  surely,  you  said  that  it  was  a  new  brown 
boot?" 

So  it  was,  sir.  And  now  it's  an  old  black 
one." 

"  What!  you  don't  mean  to  say  ?  " 

"  That's  just  what  I  do  mean  to  say.  I  only  had 
three  pairs  in  the  world — the  new  brown,  the  old 
black,  and  the  patent  leathers,  which  I  am  wearing. 
Last  night  they  took  one  of  my  brown  ones,  and 
to-day  they  have  sneaked  one  of  the  black.  Well, 
have  you  got  it?  Speak  out,  man,  and  don't  stand 
staring! " 

An  agitated  German  waiter  had  appeared  upon 
the  scene. 

"  No,  sir;  I  have  made  inquiry  all  over  the  hotel, 
but  I  can  hear  no  word  of  it." 

"  Well,  either  that  boot  comes  back  before  sun- 
down or  I'll  see  the  manager  and  tell  him  that  I  go 
right  straight  out  of  this  hotel." 

6i 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


It  shall  be  found,  sir — I  promise  you  that  if  you 
will  have  a  little  patience  it  will  be  found/' 

Mind  it  is,  for  it's  the  last  thing  of  mine  that 
ril  lose  in  this  den  of  thieves.  Well,  well,  Mr. 
Holmes,  you'll  excuse  my  troubling  you  about  such 
a  trifle  " 

I  think  it's  well  worth  troubling  about." 
"  Why,  you  look  very  serious  over  it." 

How  do  you  explain  it?  " 

I  just  don't  attempt  to  explain  it.  It  seems  the 
very  maddest,  queerest  thing  that  ever  happened  to 
me. 

The   queerest   perhaps  "    said  Holmes, 

thoughtfully. 

What  do  you  make  of  it  yourself?  " 

Well,  I  don't  profess  to  understand  it  yet.  This 
case  of  yours  is  very  complex.  Sir  Henry.  When 
taken  in  conjunction  with  your  uncle's  death  I  am 
not  sure  that  of  all  the  five  hundred  cases  of  capital 
importance  which  I  have  handled  there  is  one  which 
cuts  so  deep.  But  we  hold  several  threads  in  our 
hands,  and  the  odds  are  that  one  or  other  of  them 
guides  us  to  the  truth.  We  may  waste  time  in  fol- 
lowing the  wrong  one,  but  sooner  or  later  we  must 
come  upon  the  right." 

We  had  a  pleasant  luncheon  in  which  little  was 
said  of  the  business  which  had  brought  us  together. 
It  was  in  the  private  sitting-room  to  which  we  after- 
wards repaired  that  Holmes  asked  Baskerville  what 
were  his  intentions. 

62 


THREE    BROKEN  THREADS 


To  go  to  Baskerville  Hall." 

''And  when?" 

"  At  the  end  of  the  week." 
On  the  whole,"  said  Holmes,  "  I  think  that  your 
decision  is  a  wise  one.  I  have  ample  evidence  that 
you  are  being  dogged  in  London,  and  amid  the  mill- 
ions of  this  great  city  it  is  difficult  to  discover  who 
these  people  are  or  what  their  object  can  be.  If 
their  intentions  are  evil  they  might  do  you  a  mis- 
chief, and  we  should  be  powerless  to  prevent  it. 
You  did  not  know.  Dr.  Mortimer,  that  you  were 
followed  this  morning  from  my  house?  " 

Dr.  Mortimer  started  violently. 

"Followed!    By  whom?" 

"  That,  unfortunately,  is  what  I  cannot  tell  you. 
Have  you  among  your  neighbours  or  acquaintances 
on  Dartmoor  any  man  with  a  black,  full  beard?  " 

"  No — or,  let  me  see — why,  yes.  Barrymore,  Sir 
Charles's  butler,  is  a  man  with  a  full,  black  beard." 

"  Ha!    Where  is  Barrymore?  " 

"  He  is  in  charge  of  the  Hall." 

"  We  had  best  ascertain  if  he  is  really  there,  or  if 
by  any  possibility  he  might  be  in  London." 

"  How  can  you  do  that?  " 

"  Give  me  a  telegraph  form.  '  Is  all  ready  for  Sir 
Henry?'  That  will  do.  Address  to  Mr.  Barry- 
more, Baskerville  Hall.  What  is  the  nearest  tele- 
graph-office? Grimpen.  Very  good,  we  will  send 
a  second  wire  to  the  post-master,  Grimpen:  'Tele- 
gram to  Mr.  Barrymore,  to  be  delivered  into  his 

63 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

own  hand.  If  absent,  please  return  wire  to  Sir 
Henry  Baskerville,  Northumberland  Hotel.'  That 
should  let  us  know  before  evening  whether  Barry- 
more  is  at  his  post  in  Devonshire  or  not." 

That's  so,"  said  Baskerville.  By  the  way,  Dr. 
Mortimer,  who  is  this  Barrymore,  anyhow?  " 

"  He  is  the  son  of  the  old  caretaker,  who  is  dead. 
They  have  looked  after  the  Hall  for  four  generations 
now.  So  far  as  I  know,  he  and  his  wife  are  as  re- 
spectable a  couple  as  any  in  the  county," 

"  At  the  same  time,"  said  Baskerville,  it's  clear 
enough  that  so  long  as  there  are  none  of  the  family 
at  the  Hall  these  people  have  a  mighty  fine  home 
and  nothing  to  do." 

"  That  is  true." 
Did  Barrymore  profit  at  all  by  Sir  Charles's 
will?  "  asked  Holmes. 

"  He  and  his  wife  had  five  hundred  pounds 
each." 

"  Ha!  Did  they  know  that  they  would  receive 
this?  " 

"  Yes;  Sir  Charles  was  very  fond  of  talking  about 
the  provisions  of  his  will." 
That  is  very  interesting," 

"  I  hope,"  said  Dr.  Mortimer,  "  that  you  do  not 
look  with  suspicious  eyes  upon  everyone  who  re- 
ceived a  legacy  from  Sir  Charles,  for  I  also  had  a 
thousand  pounds  left  to  me." 

"  Indeed!    And  anyone  else?  " 

"  There  were  many  insignificant  sums  to  individ- 

64 


5 


THREE    BROKEN  THREADS 

uals,  and  a  large  number  of  public  charities.  The 
residue  all  went  to  Sir  Henry." 

"  And  how  much  was  the  residue?  " 

"  Seven  hundred  and  forty  thousand  pounds." 

Holmes  raised  his  eyebrows  in  surprise.  I  had 
no  idea  that  so  gigantic  a  sum  was  involved/'  said 
he. 

"  Sir  Charles  had  the  reputation  of  being  rich,  but 
we  did  not  know  how  very  rich  he  was  until  we 
came  to  examine  his  securities.  The  total  value  of 
the  estate  was  close  on  to  a  million." 

"  Dear  me!  It  is  a  stake  for  which  a  man  might 
well  play  a  desperate  game.  And  one  more  ques- 
tion, Dr.  Mortimer.  Supposing  that  anything 
happened  to  our  young  friend  here — ^you  will  for- 
give the  unpleasant  hypothesis ! — who  would  inherit 
the  estate?  " 

"  Since  Rodger  Baskerville,  Sir  Charles's  younger 
brother,  died  unmarried,  the  estate  would  descend 
to  the  Desmonds^  who  are  distant  cousins.  James 
Desmond  is  an  elderly  clergyman  in  Westmorland." 

"  Thank  you.  These  details  are  all  of  great  in- 
terest.   Have  you  met  Mr.  James  Desmond?" 

"Yes;  he  once  came  down  to  visit  Sir  Charles. 
He  is  a  man  of  venerable  appearance  and  of  saintly 
life.  I  remember  that  he  refused  to  accept  any  set- 
tlement from  Sir  Charles,  though  he  pressed  it  upon 
him." 

"  And  this  man  of  simple  tastes  would  be  the  heir 
to  Sir  Charles's  thousands." 

65 


THE   HOUND   OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

He  would  be  the  heir  to  the  estate,  because 
that  is  entailed.  He  would  also  be  the  heir  to  the 
money  unless  it  wer^  willed  otherwise  by  the  pres- 
ent owner,  who  can,  of  course,  do  what  he  likes 
with  it/' 

"  And  have  you  made  your  will,  Sir  Henry?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Holmes,  I  have  not.  IVe  had  no 
time,  for  it  was  only  yesterday  that  I  learned  how 
matters  stood.  But  in  any  case  I  feel  that  the 
money  should  go  with  the  title  and  estate.  That 
was  my  poor  uncle's  idea.  How  is  the  owner  going 
to  restore  the  glories  of  the  Baskervilles  if  he  has 
not  money  enough  to  keep  up  the  property? 
House,  land,  and  dollars  must  go  together." 

Quite  so.  Well,  Sir  Henry,  I  am  of  one  mind 
with  you  as  to  the  advisability  of  your  going  down 
to  Devonshire  without  delay.  There  is  only  one 
provision  which  I  must  make.  You  certainly  must 
not  go  alone.'' 

"  Dr.  Mortimer  returns  with  me." 

"  But  Dr.  Mortimer  has  his  practice  to  attend  to, 
and  his  house  is  miles  away  from  yours.  With  all 
the  good  will  in  the  world,  he  may  be  unable  to 
help  you.  No,  Sir  Henry,  you  must  take  with  you 
someone,  a  trusty  man,  who  will  be  always  by  your 
side." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  could  come  yourself,  Mr. 
Holmes?" 

If  matters  came  to  a  crisis  I  should  endeavour 
to  be  present  in  person;  but  you  can  understand 

66 


THREE    BROKEN  THREADS 

that,  with  my  extensive  consulting  practice  and 
with  the  constant  appeals  which  reach  me  from 
many  quarters,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  be  absent 
from  London  for  an  indefinite  time.  At  the  pres- 
ent instant  one  of  the  most  revered  names  in  Eng- 
land is  being  besmirched  by  a  blackmailer,  and  only 
I  can  stop  a  disastrous  scandal.  You  will  see  how 
impossible  it  is  for  me  to  go  to  Dartmoor." 

"  Whom  would  you  recommend,  then?  " 

Holmes  laid  his  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"  If  my  friend  would  undertake  it  there  is  no  man 
who  is  better  worth  having  at  your  side  when  you 
are  in  a  tight  place.  No  one  can  say  so  more  con- 
fidently than  1." 

The  proposition  took  me  completely  by  surprise, 
but  before  I  had  time  to  answer,  Baskerville  seized 
me  by  the  hand  and  wrung  it  heartily. 

"  Well,  now,  that  is  real  kind  of  you.  Dr.  Wat- 
son,'' said  he.  You  see  how  it  is  with  me,  and 
you  know  just  as  much  about  the  matter  as  I  do. 
If  you  will  come  down  to  Baskerville  Hall  and  see 
me  through  Til  never  forget  it." 

The  promise  of  adventure  had  always  a  fascina- 
tion for  me,  and  I  was  complimented  by  the  words 
of  Holmes  and  by  the  eagerness  with  which  the 
baronet  hailed  me  as  a  companion. 

"  I  will  come,  with  pleasure,"  said  I.  I  do  not 
know  how  I  could  employ  my  time  better." 

"  And  you  will  report  very  carefully  to  me,"  said 
Holmes.    "  When  a  crisis  comes,  as  it  will  do,  I 

67 


THE   HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

will  direct  how  you  shall  act.  I  suppose  that  by 
Saturday  all  might  be  ready?'' 

Would  that  suit  Dr.  Watson?  " 

Perfectly." 

Then  on  Saturday,  unless  you  hear  to  the  con- 
trary, we  shall  meet  at  the  10.30  train  from  Pad- 
dington." 

We  had  risen  to  depart  when  Baskerville  gave 
a  cry  of  triumph,  and  diving  into  one  of  the  corners 
of  the  room  he  drew  a  brown  boot  from  under  a 
cabinet. 

"  My  missing  boot!  "  he  cried. 
May  all  our  difficulties  vanish  as  easily!"  said 
Sherlock  Holmes. 

"  But  it  is  a  very  singular  thing,"  Dr.  Mortimer 
remarked.  "  I  searched  this  room  carefully  before 
lunch." 

"  And  so  did  I,"  said  Baskerville.  "  Every  inch 
of  it." 

There  was  certainly  no  boot  in  it  then." 

In  that  case  the  waiter  must  have  placed  it  there 
while  we  were  lunching." 

The  German  was  sent  for,  but  professed  to  know 
nothing  of  the  matter,  nor  could  any  inquiry  clear 
it  up.  Another  item  had  been  added  to  that  con- 
stant and  apparently  purposeless  series  of  small  mys- 
teries which  had  succeeded  each  other  so  rapidly. 
Setting  aside  the  whole  grim  story  of  Sir  Charles's 
death,  we  had  a  line  of  inexplicable  incidents  all 
within  the  limits  of  two  days,  which  included  the 

68 


THREE    BROKEN  THREADS 


receipt  of  the  printed  letter,  the  black-bearded  spy 
in  the  hansom,  the  loss  of  the  new  brown  boot,  the 
loss  of  the  old  black  boot,  and  now  the  return  of 
the  new  brown  boot.  Holmes  sat  in  silence  in  the 
cab  as  we  drove  back  to  Baker  Street,  and  I  knew 
from  his  drawn  brows  and  keen  face  that  his  mind, 
like  my  own,  was  busy  in  endeavouring  to  frame 
some  scheme  into  which  all  these  strange  and  ap- 
parently disconnected  episodes  could  be  fitted.  All 
afternoon  and  late  into  the  evening  he  sat  lost  in 
tobacco  and  thought. 

Just  before  dinner  two  telegrams  were  handed  in. 
The  first  ran : — 

Have  just  heard  that  Barrymore  is  at  the  Hall. 
— Baskerville."    The  second: — 

Visited  twenty-three  hotels  as  directed,  but 
sorry  to  report  unable  to  trace  cut  sheet  of  Times. 
— Cartwright." 

There  go  two  of  my  threads,  Watson.  There 
is  nothing  more  stimulating  than  a  case  where  every- 
thing goes  against  you.  We  must  cast  round  for 
another  scent. 

"  We  have  still  the  cabman  who  drove  the  spy." 

"  Exactly.  I  have  wired  to  get  his  name  and 
address  from  the  Ofificial  Registry.  I  should  not 
be  surprised  if  this  were  an  answer  to  my  question." 

The  ring  at  the  bell  proved  to  be  something  even 
more  satisfactory  than  an  answer,  however,  for  the 
door  opened  and  a  rough-looking  fellow  entered 
who  was  evidently  the  man  himself. 

69 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


I  got  a  message  from  the  head  office  that  a  gent 
at  this  address  had  been  inquiring  for  2,704/'  said 
he.  Tve  driven  my  cab  this  seven  years  and  never 
a  word  of  complaint.  I  came  here  straight  from  the 
Yard  to  ask  you  to  your  face  what  you  had  against 
me. 

"  I  have  nothing  in  the  world  against  you,  my 
good  man,"  said  Holmes.  On  the  contrary,  I 
have  half  a  sovereign  for  you  if  you  will  give  me 
a  clear  answer  to  my  questions." 

Well,  I've  had  a  good  day  and  no  mistake,"  said 
the  cabman,  with  a  grin.  What  was  it  you  want- 
ed to  ask,  sir?  " 

First  of  all  your  name  and  address,  in  case  I 
want  you  again." 

"  John  Clayton,  3,  Turpey  Street,  the  Borough. 
My  cab  is  out  of  Shipley's  Yard,  near  Waterloo 
Station." 

Sherlock  Holmes  made  a  note  of  it. 

"  Now,  Clayton,  tell  me  all  about  the  fare  who 
came  and  watched  this  house  at  ten  o'clock  this 
morning  and  afterwards  followed  the  two  gentle- 
men down  Regent  Street." 

The  man  looked  surprised  and  a  little  embar- 
rassed. Why,  there's  no  good  my  telling  you 
things,  for  you  seem  to  know  as  much  as  I  do  al- 
ready," said  he.  "  The  truth  is  that  the  gentleman 
told  me  that  he  was  a  detective  and  that  I  was  to 
say  nothing  about  him  to  anyone." 

"  My  good  fellow,  this  is  a  very  serious  business, 

70 


THREE    BROKEN  THREADS 


and  you  may  find  yourself  in  a  pretty  bad  position 
if  you  try  to  hide  anything  from  me.  You  say  that 
your  fare  told  you  that  he  was  a  detective?  " 

"  Yes,  he  did." 

"  When  did  he  say  this? 

"  When  he  left  me." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  more?  " 

"  He  mentioned  his  name." 

Holmes  cast  a  swift  glance  of  triumph  at  me. 
"  Oh,  he  mentioned  his  name,  did  he?  That  was 
imprudent.  What  was  the  name  that  he  men- 
tioned?" 

"  His  name,"  said  the  cabman,  "  was  Mr.  Sher- 
lock Holmes." 

Never  have  I  seen  my  friend  more  completely 
taken  aback  than  by  the  cabman's  reply.  For  an 
instant  he  sat  in  silent  amazement.  Then  he  burst 
into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"A  touch,  Watson — an  undeniable  touch!"  said 
he.    "  I  feel  a  foil  as  quick  and  supple  as  my  own. 
He  got  home  upon  me  very  prettily  that  time.  So 
his  name  was  Sherlock  Holmes,  was  it?  " 
Yes,  sir,  that  was  the  gentleman's  name." 

"  Excellent !  Tell  me  where  you  picked  him  up 
and  all  that  occurred." 

"  He  hailed  me  at  half-past  nine  in  Trafalgar 
Square.  He  said  that  he  was  a  detective,  and  he 
offered  me  two  guineas  if  I  would  do  exactly  what 
he  wanted  all  day  and  ask  no  questions.  I  was  glad 
enough  to  agree.    First  we  drove  down  to  the  Nor- 

71 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

thumberland  Hotel  and  waited  there  until  two 
gentlemen  came  out  and  took  a  cab  from  the  rank. 
We  followed  their  cab  until  it  pulled  up  somewhere 
near  here." 

This  very  door,"  said  Holmes. 
"  Well,  I  couldn't  be  sure  of  that,  but  I  daresay 
my  fare  knew  all  about  it.    We  pulled  up  half-way 
down  the  street  and  waited  an  hour  and  a  half. 
Then  the  two  gentlemen  passed  us,  walking,  and  we 

followed  down  Baker  Street  and  along  " 

I  know,"  said  Holmes. 

Until  we  got  three-quarters  down  Regent 
Street.  Then  my  gentleman  threw  up  the  trap,  and 
he  cried  that  I  should  drive  right  away  to  Waterloo 
Station  as  hard  as  I  could  go.  I  whipped  up  the 
mare  and  we  were  there  under  the  ten  minutes. 
Then  he  paid  up  his  two  guineas,  like  a  good  one, 
and  away  he  went  into  the  station.  Only  just  as  he 
was  leaving  he  turned  round  and  he  said:  *  It  might 
interest  you  to  know  that  you  have  been  driving 
Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes.'  That's  how  I  come  to 
know  the  name." 

I  see.    And  you  saw  no  more  of  him?  " 

Not  after  he  went  into  the  station." 

And  how  would  you  describe  Mr.  Sherlock 
Holmes?  " 

The  cabman  scratched  his  head.  ^'Well,  he 
wasn't  altogether  such  an  easy  gentleman  to  de- 
scribe. I'd  put  him  at  forty  years  of  age,  and  he 
was  of  a  middle  height,  two  or  three  inches  shorter 

72 


THREE    BROKEN  THREADS 

than  you,  sir.  He  was  dressed  like  a  toff,  and  he 
had  a  black  beard,  cut  square  at  the  end,  and  a  pale 
face.  I  don't  know  as  I  could  say  more  than 
that." 

"  Colour  of  his  eyes?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  that." 

"  Nothing  more  that  you  can  remember?  " 

"  No,  sir;  nothing." 

"  Well,  then,  here  is  your  half-sovereign.  There's 
another  one  waiting  for  you  if  you  can  bring  any 
more  information.    Good  night!" 

"  Good  night,  sir,  and  thank  you!  " 

John  Clayton  departed  chuckling,  and  Holmes 
turned  to  me  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  a 
rueful  smile. 

Snap  goes  our  third  thread,  and  we  end  where 
we  began,"  said  he.  ''The  cunning  rascal!  He 
knew  our  number,  knew  that  Sir  Henry  Baskerville 
had  consulted  me,  spotted  who  I  was  in  Regent 
Street,  conjectured  that  I  had  got  the  number  of 
the  cab  and  would  lay  my  hands  on  the  driver,  and 
so  sent  back  this  audacious  message.  I  tell  you, 
Watson,  this  time  we  have  got  a  foeman  who  is 
worthy  of  our  steel.  I've  been  checkmated  in 
London.  I  can  only  wish  you  better  luck  in 
Devonshire.  But  I'm  not  easy  in  my  mind  about 
it." 

About  what?  " 
"About  sending  you.    It's  an  ugly  business, 
Watson,  an  ugly,  dangerous  business,  and  the  more 

73 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

I  see  of  it  the  less  I  like  it.  Yes,  my  dear  fellow, 
you  may  laugh,  but  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  shall 
be  very  glad  to  have  you  back  safe  and  sound  in 
Baker  Street  once  more/' 


74 


VI 


Baskerville  Hall 

SIR  HENRY  BASKERVILLE  and  Dr.  Mor- 
timer  were  ready  upon  the  appointed  day, 
and  we  started  as  arranged  for  Devonshire. 
Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes  drove  with  me  to  the  station 
and  gave  me  his  last  parting  injunctions  and  advice. 

"  I  will  not  bias  your  mind  by  suggesting  theories 
or  suspicions,  Watson,''  said  he; I  wish  you  simply 
to  report  facts  in  the  fullest  possible  manner  to  me, 
and  you  can  leave  me  to  do  the  theorizing." 
"  What  sort  of  facts?  ''  I  asked. 
"  Anything  which  may  seem  to  have  a  bearing 
however  indirect  upon  the  case,  and  especially  the 
relations  between  young  Baskerville  and  his  neigh- 
bours or  any  fresh  particulars  concerning  the  death 
of  Sir  Charles.  I  have  made  some  inquiries  myself 
in  the  last  few  days,  but  the  results  have,  I  fear,  been 
negative.  One  thing  only  appears  to  be  certain, 
and  that  is  that  Mr.  James  Desmond,  who  is  the 
next  heir,  is  an  elderly  gentleman  of  a  very  amiable 
disposition,  so  that  this  persecution  does  not  arise 
from  him.  I  really  think  that  we  may  eliminate 
him  entirely  from  our  calculations.  There  remain 
the  people  who  will  actually  surround  Sir  Henry 
Baskerville  upon  the  moor." 

75 


THE    MOlTND  OF  THE  BASKERVlLLES 

Would  it  not  be  well  in  the  first  place  to  get 
rid  of  this  Barrymore  couple?  " 

"  By  no  means.  You  could  not  make  a  greater 
mistake.  If  they  are  innocent  it  would  be  a  cruel 
injustice,  and  if  they  are  guilty  we  should  be  giving 
up  all  chance  of  bringing  it  home  to  them.  No,  no, 
we  will  preserve  them  upon  our  list  of  suspects. 
Then  there  is  a  groom  at  the  Hall,  if  I  remember 
right.  There  are  two  moorland  farmers.  There  is 
our  friend  Dr.  Mortimer,  whom  I  believe  to  be  en- 
tirely honest,  and  there  is  his  wife,  of  whom  we 
know  nothing.  There  is  this  naturalist  Stapleton, 
and  there  is  his  sister,  who  is  said  to  be  a  young 
lady  of  attractions.  There  is  Mr.  Frankland,  of 
Lafter  Hall,  who  is  also  an  unknown  factor,  and 
there  are  one  or  two  other  neighbours.  These  are 
the  folk  who  must  be  your  very  special  study.'* 

"  I  will  do  my  best." 

"  You  have  arms,  I  suppose? 

"  Yes,  I  thought  it  as  well  to  take  them." 

"  Most  certainly.  Keep  your  revolver  near  you 
night  and  day,  and  never  relax  your  precautions." 

Our  friends  had  already  secured  a  first-class  car- 
riage, and  were  waiting  for  us  upon  the  platform. 

"  No,  we  have  no  news  of  any  kind,"  said  Dr. 
Mortimer,  in  answer  to  my  friend's  questions.  "  I 
can  swear  to  one  thing,  and  that  is  that  we  have 
not  been  shadowed  during  the  last  two  days.  We 
have  never  gone  out  without  keeping  a  sharp  watch, 
and  no  one  could  have  escaped  our  notice." 

76 


BASKERVILLE  HALL 

"  You  have  always  kept  together,  I  presume? 

"  Except  yesterday  afternoon.  I  usually  give  up 
one  day  to  pure  amusement  when  I  come  to  town, 
so  I  spent  it  at  the  Museum  of  the  College  of  Sur- 
geons." 

And  I  went  to  look  at  the  folk  in  the  park,'' 
said  Baskerville.  "  But  we  had  no  trouble  of  any 
kind." 

It  was  imprudent,  all  the  same,"  said  Holmes, 
shaking  his  head  and  looking  very  grave.  I  beg, 
Sir  Henry,  that  you  will  not  go  about  alone.  Some 
great  misfortune  will  befall  you  if  you  do.  Did  you 
get  your  other  boot?  " 

No,  sir,  it  is  gone  for  ever." 
"  Indeed.  That  is  very  interesting.  Well,  good- 
bye," he  added,  as  the  train  began  to  glide  down 
the  platform.  Bear  in  mind,  Sir  Henry,  one  of 
the  phrases  in  that  queer  old  legend  which  Dr.  Mor- 
timer has  read  to  us,  and  avoid  the  moor  in  those 
hours  of  darkness  when  the  powers  of  evil  are  ex- 
alted." 

I  looked  back  at  the  platform  when  we  had  left 
it  far  behind,  and  saw  the  tall,  austere  figure  of 
Holmes  standing  motionless  and  gazing  after  us. 

The  journey  was  a  swift  and  pleasant  one,  and 
I  spent  it  in  making  the  more  intimate  acquaintance 
of  my  two  companions  and  in  playing  with  Dr.  Mor- 
timer's spaniel.  In  a  very  few  hours  the  brown 
earth  had  become  ruddy,  the  brick  had  changed  to 
granite,  and  red  cows  grazed  in  well-hedged  fields 

77 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

where  the  lush  grasses  and  more  luxuriant  vegeta- 
tion spoke  of  a  richer,  if  a  damper,  climate.  Young 
Baskerville  stared  eagerly  out  of  the  window,  and 
cried  aloud  with  delight  as  he  recognised  the  famil- 
iar features  of  the  Devon  scenery. 

I've  been  over  a  good  part  of  the  world  since 
I  left  it,  Dr.  Watson,"  said  he;  but  I  have  never 
seen  a  place  to  compare  with  it.'' 

"  I  never  saw  a  Devonshire  man  who  did  not 
swear  by  his  county,"  I  remarked. 

It  depends  upon  the  breed  of  men  quite  as  much 
as  on  the  county,"  said  Dr.  Mortimer.  "  A  glance 
at  our  friend  here  reveals  the  rounded  head  of  the 
Celt,  which  carries  inside  it  the  Celtic  enthusiasm 
and  power  of  attachment.  Poor  Sir  Charles's  head 
was  of  a  very  rare  type,  half  Gaelic,  half  Ivernian 
in  its  characteristics.  But  you  were  very  young 
when  you  last  saw  Baskerville  Hall,  were  you  not? 

"  I  was  a  boy  in  my  'teens  at  the  time  of  my 
father's  death,  and  had  never  seen  the  Hall,  for  he 
lived  in  a  little  cottage  on  the  South  Coast.  Thence 
I  went  straight  to  a  friend  in  America.  I  tell  you 
it  is  all  as  new  to  me  as  it  is  to  Dr.  Watson,  and  I'm 
as  keen  as  possible  to  see  the  moor." 

"  Are  you?  Then  your  wish  is  easily  granted,  for 
there  is  your  first  sight  of  the  moor,"  said  Dr.  Mor- 
timer, pointing  out  of  the  carriage  window. 

Over  the  green  squares  of  the  fields  and  the  low 
curve  of  a  wood  there  rose  in  the  distance  a  grey, 
melancholy  hill,  with  a  strange  jagged  summit,  dim 

78 


BASKERVILLE  HALL 

and  vague  in  the  distance,  like  some  fantastic  land- 
scape in  a  dream.  Baskerville  sat  for  a  long  time, 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  it,  and  I  read  upon  his  eager 
face  how  much  it  meant  to  him,  this  first  sight  of 
that  strange  spot  where  the  men  of  his  blood  had 
held  sway  so  long  and  left  their  mark  so  deep. 
There  he  sat,  with  his  tweed  suit  and  his  American 
accent,  in  the  corner  of  a  prosaic  railway-carriage, 
and  yet  as  I  looked  at  his  dark  and  expressive  face 
I  felt  more  than  ever  how  true  a  descendant  he  was 
of  that  long  line  of  high-blooded,  fiery,  and  master- 
ful men.  There  were  pride,  valour,  and  strength  in 
his  thick  brows,  his  sensitive  nostrils,  and  his  large 
hazel  eyes.  If  on  that  forbidding  moor  a  difficult 
and  dangerous  quest  should  lie  before  us,  this  was 
at  least  a  comrade  for  whom  one  might  venture  to 
take  a  risk  with  the  certainty  that  he  would  bravely 
share  it. 

The  train  pulled  up  at  a  small  wayside  station  and 
we  all  descended.  Outside,  beyond  the  low,  white 
fence,  a  wagonette  with  a  pair  of  cobs  was  waiting. 
Our  coming  was  evidently  a  great  event,  for  station- 
master  and  porters  clustered  round  us  to  carry  out 
our  luggage.  It  was  a  sweet,  simple  country  spot, 
but  I  was  surprised  to  observe  that  by  the  gate  there 
stood  two  soldierly  men  in  dark  uniforms,  who 
leaned  upon  their  short  rifles  and  glanced  keenly  at 
us  as  we  passed.  The  coachman,  a  hard-faced, 
gnarled  little  fellow,  saluted  Sir  Henry  Baskerville, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  flying  swiftly  down 

79 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

the  broad,  white  road.  RolHng  pasture  lands 
curved  upwards  on  either  side  of  us,  and  old  gabled 
houses  peeped  out  from  amid  the  thick  green  foli- 
age, but  behind  the  peaceful  and  sunlit  country-side 
there  rose  ever,  dark  against  the  evening  sky,  the 
long,  gloomy  curve  of  the  moor,  broken  by  the 
jagged  and  sinister  hills. 

The  wagonette  swung  round  into  a  side  road, 
and  we  curved  upwards  through  deep  lanes  worn  by 
centuries  of  wheels,  high  banks  on  either  side,  heavy 
with  dripping  moss  and  fleshy  hart's-tongue  ferns. 
Bronzing  bracken  and  mottled  bramble  gleamed  in 
the  light  of  the  sinking  sun.  Still  steadily  rising, 
we  passed  over  a  narrow  granite  bridge,  and  skirted 
a  noisy  stream  which  gushed  swiftly  down,  foaming 
and  roaring  amid  the  grey  boulders.  Both  road 
and  stream  wound  up  through  a  valley  dense  with 
scrub  oak  and  fir.  At  every  turning  Baskerville 
gave  an  exclamation  of  delight,  looking  eagerly 
about  him  and  asking  countless  questions.  To  his 
eyes  all  seemed  beautiful,  but  to  me  a  tinge  of  mel- 
ancholy lay  upon  the  country-side,  which  bore  so 
clearly  the  mark  of  the  waning  year.  Yellow  leaves 
carpeted  the  lanes  and  fluttered  down  upon  us  as 
we  passed.  The  rattle  of  our  wheels  died  away  as 
we  drove  through  drifts  of  rotting  vegetation — sad 
gifts,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  for  Nature  to  throw  be- 
fore the  carriage  of  the  returning  heir  of  the  Basker- 
villes. 

"  HaUoa! cried  Dr.  Mortimer,    what  is  this?  " 

80 


BASKERVILLE  HALL 


A  steep  curve  of  heath-clad  land,  an  outlying  spur 
of  the  moor,  lay  in  front  of  us.  On  the  summit, 
hard  and  clear  like  an  equestrian  statue  upon  its 
pedestal,  was  a  mounted  soldier,  dark  and  stern,  his 
rifle  poised  ready  over  his  forearm.  He  was  watch- 
ing the  road  along  which  we  travelled. 

"  What  is  this,  Perkins?  "  asked  Dr.  Mortimer. 

Our  driver  half  turned  in  his  seat. 

"  There's  a  convict  escaped  from  Princetown,  sir. 
He's  been  out  three  days  now,  and  the  warders 
watch  every  road  and  every  station,  but  they've  had 
no  sight  of  him  yet.  The  farmers  about  here  don't 
like  it,  sir,  and  that's  a  fact." 

Well,  I  understand  that  they  get  five  pounds  if 
they  can  give  information." 

Yes,  sir,  but  the  chance  of  five  pounds  is  but  a 
poor  thing  compared  to  the  chance  of  having  your 
throat  cut.    You  see,  it  isn't  like  any  ordinary  con- 
vict.   This  is  a  man  that  would  stick  at  nothing." 
Who  is  he,  then?" 

It  is  Selden,  the  Notting  Hill  murderer." 
I  remembered  the  case  well,  for  it  was  one  in 
which  Holmes  had  taken  an  interest  on  account  of 
the  peculiar  ferocity  of  the  crime  and  the  wanton 
brutality  which  had  marked  all  the  actions  of  the 
assassin.  The  commutation  of  his  death  sentence 
had  been  due  to  some  doubts  as  to  his  complete 
sanity,  so  atrocious  was  his  conduct.  Our  wagon- 
ette had  topped  a  rise  and  in  front  of  us  rose  the 
huge  expanse  of  the  moor,  mottled  with  gnarled  and 

8i 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

craggy  cairns  and  tors.  A  cold  wind  swept  down 
from  it  and  set  us  shivering.  Somewhere  there,  on 
that  desolate  plain,  was  lurking  this  fiendish  man, 
hiding  in  a  burrow  like  a  wild  beast,  his  heart  full  of 
malignancy  against  the  whole  race  which  had  cast 
him  out.  It  needed  but  this  to  complete  the  grim 
suggestiveness  of  the  barren  waste,  the  chilling 
wind,  and  the  darkling  sky.  Even  Baskerville  fell 
silent  and  pulled  his  overcoat  more  closely  around 
him. 

We  had  left  the  fertile  country  behind  and  be- 
neath us.  We  looked  back  on  it  now,  the  slanting 
rays  of  a  low  sun  turning  the  streams  to  threads  of 
gold  and  glowing  on  the  red  earth  new  turned  by 
the  plough  and  the  broad  tangle  of  the  woodlands. 
The  road  in  front  of  us  grew  bleaker  and  wilder 
over  huge  russet  and  olive  slopes,  sprinkled  with 
giant  boulders.  Now  and  then  we  passed  a  moor- 
land cottage,  walled  and  roofed  with  stone,  with  no 
creeper  to  break  its  harsh  outline.  Suddenly  we 
looked  down  into  a  cup-like  depression,  patched 
with  stunted  oaks  and  firs  which  had  been  twisted 
and  bent  by  the  fury  of  years  of  storm.  Two  high, 
narrow  towers  rose  over  the  trees.  The  driver 
pointed  with  his  whip. 

"  Baskerville  Hall,''  said  he. 

Its  master  had  risen  and  was  staring  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  shining  eyes.  A  few  minutes  later  we 
had  reached  the  lodge-gates,  a  maze  of  fantastic 
tracery  in  wrought  iron,  with  weather-bitten  pillars 

82 


The  driver  pointed  with  his  whip.    "  Baskerville 

Hall,"  said  he. 


BASKERVILLE  HALL 


on  either  side,  blotched  with  lichens,  and  surmount- 
ed by  the  boars'  heads  of  the  Baskervilles.  The 
lodge  was  a  ruin  of  black  granite  and  bared  ribs  of 
rafters,  but  facing  it  was  a  new  building,  half  con- 
structed, the  first  fruit  of  Sir  Charles's  South  Afri- 
can gold. 

Through  the  gateway  we  passed  into  the  avenue, 
where  the  wheels  were  again  hushed  amid  the  leaves, 
and  the  old  trees  shot  their  branches  in  a  sombre 
tunnel  over  our  heads.  Baskerville  shuddered  as 
he  looked  up  the  long,  dark  drive  to  where  the 
house  glimmered  like  a  ghost  at  the  farther  end. 

"  Was  it  here?    he  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 
No,  no,  the  Yew  Alley  is  on  the  other  side." 

The  young  heir  glanced  round  with  a  gloomy 
face. 

"  It's  no  wonder  my  uncle  felt  as  if  trouble  were 
coming  on  him  in  such  a  place  as  this,''  said  he. 
"  It's  enough  to  scare  any  man.  I'll  have  a  row  of 
electric  lamps  up  here  inside  of  six  months,  and  you 
won't  know  it  again,  with  a  thousand  candle-power 
Swan  and  Edison  right  here  in  front  of  the  hall 
door." 

The  avenue  opened  into  a  broad  expanse  of  turf, 
and  the  house  lay  before  us.  In  the  fading  light 
I  could  see  that  the  centre  was  a  heavy  block  of 
building  from  which  a  porch  projected.  The  whole 
front  was  draped  in  ivy,  with  a  patch  clipped  bare 
here  and  there  where  a  window  or  a  coat-of-arms 
broke  through  the  dark  veil.    From  this  central 

83 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

block  rose  the  twin  towers,  ancient,  crenelated,  and 
pierced  with  many  loopholes.  To  right  and  left  of 
the  turrets  were  more  modern  wings  of  black  gran- 
ite. A  dull  light  shone  through  heavy  mullioned 
windows,  and  from  the  high  chimneys  which  rose 
from  the  steep,  high-angled  roof  there  sprang  a  sin- 
gle black  column  of  smoke. 

Welcome,  Sir  Henry !  Welcome,  to  Ba^Tcer- 
ville  Hall!'^ 

A  tall  man  had  stepped  from  the  shadow  of  the 
porch  to  open  the  door  of  the  wagonette.  The 
figure  of  a  woman  was  silhouetted  against  the  yel- 
low light  of  the  hall.  She  came  out  and  helped  the 
man  to  hand  down  our  bags. 

"  You  don't  mind  my  driving  straight  home,  Sir 
Henry?  said  Dr.  Mortimer.  "  My  wife  is  expect- 
ing me." 

"  Surely  you  will  stay  and  have  some  dinner? 
No,  I  must  go.  I  shall  probably  find  some 
work  awaiting  me.  I  would  stay  to  show  you  over 
the  house,  but  Barrymore  will  be  a  better  guide  than 
I.  Good-bye,  and  never  hesitate  night  or  day  to 
send  for  me  if  I  can  be  of  service." 

The  wheels  died  away  down  the  drive  while  Sir 
Henry  and  I  turned  into  the  hall,  and  the  door 
clanged  heavily  behind  us.  It  was  a  fine  apartment 
in  which  we  found  ourselves,  large,  lofty,  and  heav- 
ily raftered  with  huge  balks  of  age-blackened  oak. 
In  the  great  old-fashioned  fireplace  behind  the  high 
iron  dogs  a  log-fire  crackled  and  snapped.  Sir 

84 


BASKERVILLE  HALL 

Henry  and  I  held  out  our  hands  to  it,  for  we  were 
numb  from  our  long  drive.  Then  we  gazed  round 
us  at  the  high,  thin  window  of  old  stained  glass,  the 
oak  panelling,  the  stags'  heads,  the  coats-of-arms 
upon  the  walls,  all  dim  and  sombre  in  the  subdued 
light  of  the  central  lamp. 

"  It's  just  as  I  imagined  it,"  said  Sir  Henry.  "  Is 
it  not  the  very  picture  of  an  old  family  home?  To 
think  that  this  should  be  the  same  hall  in  which  for 
five  hundred  years  my  people  have  lived.  It  strikes 
me  solemn  to  think  of  it." 

I  saw  his  dark  face  lit  up  with  a  boyish  enthusiasm 
as  he  gazed  about  him.  The  light  beat  upon  him 
where  he  stood,  but  long  shadows  trailed  down  the 
walls  and  hung  like  a  black  canopy  above  him. 
Barrymore  had  returned  from  taking  our  luggage 
to  our  rooms.  He  stood  in  front  of  us  now  with 
the  subdued  manner  of  a  well-trained  servant.  He 
was  a  remarkable-looking  man,  tall,  handsome,  with 
a  square  black  beard,  and  pale,  distinguished  feat- 
ures. 

"  Would  you  wish  dinner  to  be  served  at  once, 
sir?  '^ 

"  Is  it  ready?  " 

"  In  a  very  few  minutes,  sir.  You  will  find  hot 
water  in  your  rooms.  My  wife  and  I  will  be  happy. 
Sir  Henry,  to  stay  with  you  until  you  have  made 
your  fresh  arrangements,  but  you  will  understand 
that  under  the  new  conditions  this  house  will  re- 
quire a  considerable  staff." 

85 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

What  new  conditions?  " 
"  I  only  meant,  sir,  that  Sir  Charles  led  a  very 
retired  life,  and  we  were  able  to  look  after  his  wants. 
You  would,  naturally,  wish  to  have  more  company, 
and  so  you  will  need  changes  in  your  household." 

Do  you  mean  that  your  wife  and  you  wish  to 
leave?" 

"  Only  when  it  is  quite  convenient  to  you,  sir." 
But  your  family  have  been  with  us  for  several 
generations,  have  they  not?    I  should  be  sorry  to 
begin  my  life  here  by  breaking  an  old  family  con- 
nection." 

I  seemed  to  discern  some  signs  of  emotion  upon 
the  butler's  white  face. 

I  feel  that  also,  sir,  and  so  does  my  wife.  But 
to  tell  the  truth,  sir,  we  were  both  very  much  at- 
tached to  Sir  Charles,  and  his  death  gave  us  a  shock 
and  made  these  surroundings  very  painful  to  us.  I 
fear  that  we  shall  never  again  be  easy  in  our  minds 
at  Baskerville  Hall." 

"  But  what  do  you  intend  to  do?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt,  sir,  that  we  shall  succeed 
in  establishing  ourselves  in  some  business.  Sir 
Charles's  generosity  has  given  us  the  means  to  do 
so.  And  now,  sir,  perhaps  I  had  best  show  you  to 
your  rooms." 

A  square  balustraded  gallery  ran  round  the  top 
of  the  old  hall,  approached  by  a  double  stair.  From 
this  central  point  two  long  corridors  extended  the 
whole  length  of  the  building,  from  which  all  the 

86 


BASKERVILLE  HALL 

bedrooms  opened.  My  own  was  in  the  same  wing 
as  Baskerville's  and  almost  next  door  to  it.  These 
rooms  appeared  to  be  much  more  modern  than  the 
central  part  of  the  house,  and  the  bright  paper  and 
numerous  candles  did  something  to  remove  the 
sombre  impression  which  our  arrival  had  left  upon 
my  mind. 

But  the  dining-room  which  opened  out  of  the  hall 
was  a  place  of  shadow  and  gloom.  It  was  a  long 
chamber  with  a  step  separating  the  dais  where  the 
family  sat  from  the  lower  portion  reserved  for  their 
dependents.  At  one  end  a  minstrel's  gallery  over- 
looked it.  Black  beams  shot  across  above  our 
heads,  with  a  smoke-darkened  ceiling  beyond  them. 
With  rows  of  flaring  torches  to  light  it  up,  and  the 
colour  and  rude  hilarity  of  an  old-time  banquet,  it 
might  have  softened;  but  now,  when  two  black- 
clothed  gentlemen  sat  in  the  little  circle  of  light 
thrown  by  a  shaded  lamp,  one's  voice  became 
hushed  and  one's  spirit  subdued.  A  dim  line  of 
ancestors,  in  every  variety  of  dress,  from  the  Eliza- 
bethan knight  to  the  buck  of  the  Regency,  stared  ^ 
down  upon  us  and  daunted  us  by  their  silent  com- 
pany. We  talked  little,  and  I  for  one  was  glad 
when  the  meal  was  over  and  we  were  able  to  retire 
into  the  modern  billiard-room  and  smoke  a  cigar- 
ette. 

"  My  word,  it  isn't  a  very  cheerful  place,"  said 
Sir  Henry.  I  suppose  one  can  tone  down  to  it, 
but  I  feel  a  bit  out  of  the  picture  at  present.  I 

87 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


don't  wonder  that  my  uncle  got  a  little  jumpy  il  he 
lived  all  alone  in  such  a  house  as  this.  However,  if 
it  suits  you,  we  will  retire  early  to-night,  and  per- 
haps things  may  seem  more  cheerful  in  the  morn- 
mg. 

I  drew  aside  my  curtains  before  I  went  to  bed 
and  looked  out  from  my  window.  It  opened  upon 
the  grassy  space  which  lay  in  front  of  the  hall  door. 
Beyond,  two  copses  of  trees  moaned  and  swung  in 
a  rising  wind.  A  half  moon  broke  through  the  rifts 
of  racing  clouds.  In  its  cold  light  I  saw  beyond  the 
trees  a  broken  fringe  of  rocks,  and  the  long,  low 
curve  of  the  melancholy  moor.  I  closed  the  cur- 
tain, feeling  that  my  last  impression  was  in  keeping 
with  the  rest. 

And  yet  it  was  not  quite  the  last.  I  found  myself 
weary  and  yet  wakeful,  tossing  restlessly  from  side 
to  side,  seeking  for  the  sleep  which  would  not  come. 
Far  away  a  chiming  clock  struck  out  the  quarters 
of  the  hours,  but  otherwise  a  deathly  silence  lay 
upon  the  old  house.  And  then  suddenly,  in  the 
very  dead  of  the  night,  there  came  a  sound  to  my 
ears,  clear,  resonant,  and  unmistakable.  It  was  the 
sob  of  a  woman,  the  mufHed,  strangling  gasp  of  one 
who  is  torn  by  an  uncontrollable  sorrow.  I  sat  up 
in  bed  and  listened  intently.  The  noise  could  not 
have  been  far  away  and  was  certainly  in  the  house. 
For  half  an  hour  I  waited  with  every  nerve  on  the 
alert,  but  there  came  no  other  sound  save  the  chim- 
ing clock  and  the  rustle  of  the  ivy  on  the  wall. 

88 


VII 


The  Stapletons  of  Merripit  House 


HE  fresh  beauty  of  the  following  morning 


did  something  to  efface  from  our  minds 


JL  the  grim  and  grey  impression  which  had 
been  left  upon  both  of  us  by  our  first  experi- 
ence of  Baskerville  Hall.  As  Sir  Henry  and  I  sat 
at  breakfast  the  sunlight  flooded  in  through  the 
high  mullioned  windows,  throwing  watery  patches 
of  colour  from  the  coats  of  arms  which  covered 
them.  The  dark  panelling  glowed  like  bronze  in 
the  golden  rays,  and  it  was  hard  to  realize  that  this 
was  indeed  the  chamber  which  had  struck  such  a 
gloom  into  our  souls  upon  the  evening  before. 

I  guess  it  is  ourselves  and  not  the  house  that 
we  have  to  blame!  "  said  the  baronet.  "  We  were 
tired  with  our  journey  and  chilled  by  our  drive,  so 
we  took  a  grey  view  of  the  place.  Now  we  are 
fresh  and  well,  so  it  is  all  cheerful  once  more.'' 

And  yet  it  was  not  entirely  a  question  of  imag- 
ination,'' I  answered.  Did  you,  for  example,  hap- 
pen to  hear  someone,  a  woman  I  think,  sobbing  in 
the  night?  " 

That  is  curious,  for  I  did  when  I  was  half  asleep 
fancy  that  I  heard  something  of  the  sort.    I  waited 


89 


THE   HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


quite  a  time,  but  there  was  no  more  of  it,  so  I  con- 
cluded that  it  was  all  a  dream/' 

"  I  heard  it  distinctly,  and  I  am  sure  that  it  was 
really  the  sob  of  a  woman/' 

We  must  ask  about  this  right  away/'  He  rang 
the  bell  and  asked  Barrymore  whether  he  could  ac- 
count for  our  experience.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
the  pallid  features  of  the  butler  turned  a  shade  paler 
still  as  he  listened  to  his  master's  question. 

There  are  only  two  women  in  the  house.  Sir 
Henry,"  he  answered.  "  One  is  the  scullery-maid, 
who  sleeps  in  the  other  wing.  The  other  is  my 
wife,  and  I  can  answer  for  it  that  the  sound  could 
not  have  come  from  her." 

And  yet  he  lied  as  he  said  it,  for  it  chanced  that 
after  breakfast  I  met  Mrs.  Barrymore  in  the  long 
corridor  with  the  sun  full  upon  her  face.  She  was 
a  large,  impassive,  heavy-featured  woman  with  a 
stern  set  expression  of  mouth.  But  her  tell-tale 
eyes  were  red  and  glanced  at  me  from  between 
swollen  lids.  It  was  she,  then,  who  wept  in  the 
night,  and  if  she  did  so  her  husband  must  know  it. 
Yet  he  had  taken  the  obvious  risk  of  discovery  in 
declaring  that  it  was  not  so.  Why  had  he  done 
this?  And  why  did  she  weep  so  bitterly?  Already 
round  this  pale-faced,  handsome,  black-bearded 
man  there  was  gathering  an  atmosphere  of  mystery 
and  of  gloom.  It  was  he  who  had  been  the  first 
to  discover  the  body  of  Sir  Charles,  and  we  had 
only  his  word  for  all  the  circumstances  which  led 

90 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 

up  to  the  old  man's  death.  Was  it  possible  that  it 
was  Barrymore  after  all  whom  we  had  seen  in  the 
cab  in  Regent  Street?  The  beard  might  well  have 
been  the  same.  The  cabman  had  described  a  some- 
what shorter  man,  but  such  an  impression  might 
easily  have  been  erroneous.  How  could  I  settle  the 
point  for  ever?  Obviously  the  first  thing  to  do  was 
to  see  the  Grimpen  postmaster,  and  find  whether 
the  test  telegram  had  really  been  placed  in  Barry- 
more's  own  hands.  Be  the  answer  what  it  might, 
I  should  at  least  have  something  to  report  to  Sher- 
lock Holmes. 

Sir  Henry  had  numerous  papers  to  examine  after 
breakfast,  so  that  the  time  was  propitious  for  my 
excursion.  It  was  a  pleasant  walk  of  four  miles 
along  the  edge  of  the  moor,  leading  me  at  last  to  a 
small  grey  hamlet,  in  which  two  larger  buildings, 
which  proved  to  be  the  inn  and  the  house  of  Dr. 
Mortimer,  stood  high  above  the  rest.  The  post- 
master, who  was  also  the  village  grocer,  had  a  clear 
recollection  of  the  telegram. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  had  the  telegram 
delivered  to  Mr.  Barrymore  exactly  as  directed." 

"Who  delivered  it?" 

"  My  boy  here.  James,  you  delivered  that  tele- 
gram to  Mr.  Barrymore  at  the  Hall  last  week,  did 
you  not?  " 

"  Yes,  father,  I  delivered  it." 

"  Into  his  own  hands?  "  I  asked. 
Well,  he  was  up  in  the  loft  at  the  time,  so  that 

91 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


I  could  not  put  it  into  his  own  hands,  but  I  gave 
it  into  Mrs.  Barrymore's  hands,  and  she  promised  to 
deliver  it  at  once/' 

"  Did  you  see  Mr.  Barry  more?  " 

"  No,  sir;  I  tell  you  he  was  in  the  loft." 
If  you  didn't  see  him,  how  do  you  know  he  was 
in  the  loft?'' 

Well,  surely  his  own  wife  ought  to  know  where 
he  is,"  said  the  postmaster,  testily.  "  Didn't  he  get 
the  telegram?  If  there  is  any  mistake  it  is  for  Mr. 
Barrymore  himself  to  complain." 

It  seemed  hopeless  to  pursue  the  inquiry  any  far- 
ther, but  it  was  clear  that  in  spite  of  Holmes's  ruse 
we  had  no  proof  that  Barrymore  had  not  been  in 
London  all  the  time.  Suppose  that  it  were  so — 
suppose  that  the  same  man  had  been  the  last  who 
had  seen  Sir  Charles  alive,  and  the  first  to  dog  the 
new  heir  when  he  returned  to  England.  What 
then?  Was  he  the  agent  of  others  or  had  he  some 
sinister  design  of  his  own?  What  interest  could  he 
have  in  persecuting  the  Baskerville  family?  I 
thought  of  the  strange  warning  clipped  out  of  the 
leading  article  of  the  Times.  Was  that  his  work  or 
was  it  possibly  the  doing  of  someone  who  was  bent 
upon  counteracting  his  schemes?  The  only  con- 
ceivable motive  was  that  which  had  been  suggested 
by  Sir  Henry,  that  if  the  family  could  be  scared  away 
a  comfortable  and  permanent  home  would  be  se- 
cured for  the  Barrymores.  But  surely  such  an  ex- 
planation as  that  would  be  quite  inadequate  to 

92 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 

account  for  the  deep  and  subtle  scheming  which 
seemed  to  be  weaving  an  invisible  net  round  the 
young  baronet.  Holmes  himself  had  said  that  no 
more  complex  case  had  come  to  him  in  all  the  long 
series  of  his  sensational  investigations.  I  prayed, 
as  I  walked  back  along  the  grey,  lonely  road,  that 
my  friend  might  soon  be  freed  from  his  preoccupa- 
tions and  able  to  come  down  to  take  this  heavy 
burden  of  responsibility  from  my  shoulders. 

Suddenly  my  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the 
sound  of  running  feet  behind  me  and  by  a  voice 
which  called  me  by  name.  I  turned,  expecting  to 
see  Dr.  Mortimer,  but  to  my  surprise  it  was  a 
stranger  who  was  pursuing  me.  He  was  a  small, 
slim,  clean-shaven,  prim-faced  man,  flaxen-haired 
and  lean-jawed,  between  thirty  and  forty  years  of 
age,  dressed  in  a  grey  suit  and  wearing  a  straw  hat. 
A  tin  box  for  botanical  specimens  hung  over  his 
shoulder  and  he  carried  a  green  butterfly-net  in  one 
of  his  hands. 

You  will,  I  am  sure,  excuse  my  presumption, 
Dr.  Watson,"  said  he,  as  he  came  panting  up  to 
where  I  stood.  "  Here  on  the  moor  we  are  homely 
folk  and  do  not  wait  for  formal  introductions.  You 
may  possibly  have  heard  my  name  from  our  mutual 
friend,  Mortimer.  I  am  Stapleton,  of  Merripit 
House." 

Your  net  and  box  would  have  told  me  as  much," 
said  I,  for  I  knew  that  Mr.  Stapleton  was  a  nat- 
uralist.   But  how  did  you  know  me?  " 

93 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

I  have  been  calling  on  Mortimer,  and  he  pointed 
you  out  to  me  from  the  window  of  his  surgery  as 
you  passed.  As  our  road  lay  the  same  way  I 
thought  that  I  would  overtake  you  and  introduce 
myself.  I  trust  that  Sir  Henry  is  none  the  worse 
for  his  journey?  " 

"  He  is  very  well,  thank  you." 
We  were  all  rather  afraid  that  after  the  sad 
death  of  Sir  Charles  the  new  baronet  might  refuse 
to  live  here.  It  is  asking  much  of  a  wealthy  man 
to  come  down  and  bury  himself  in  a  place  of  this 
kind,  but  I  need  not  tell  you  that  it  means  a  very 
great  deal  to  the  country-side.  Sir  Henry  has,  I 
suppose,  no  superstitious  fears  in  the  matter?  " 
I  do  not  think  that  it  is  likely." 

"  Of  course  you  know  the  legend  of  the  fiend  dog 
which  haunts  the  family?  " 

"  I  have  heard  it." 

"  It  is  extraordinary  how  credulous  the  peasants 
are  about  here !  Any  number  of  them  are  ready  to 
swear  that  they  have  seen  such  a  creature  upon  the 
moor."  He  spoke  with  a  smile,  but  I  seemed  to 
read  in  his  eyes  that  he  took  the  matter  more  se- 
riously. The  story  took  a  great  hold  upon  the 
imagination  of  Sir  Charles,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
it  led  to  his  tragic  end." 

"  But  how?  " 

"  His  nerves  were  so  worked  up  that  the  appear- 
ance of  any  dog  might  have  had  a  fatal  effect  upon 
his  diseased  heart.    I  fancy  that  he  really  did  see 

94 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 

something  of  the  kind  upon  that  last  night  in  the 
Yew  Alley.  I  feared  that  some  disaster  might  oc- 
cur, for  I  was  very  fond  of  the  old  man,  and  I  knew 
that  his  heart  was  weak.'' 

How  did  you  know  that?  " 
My  friend  Mortimer  told  me.'' 

"  You  think,  then,  that  some  dog  pursued  Sir 
Charles,  and  that  he  died  of  fright  in  consequence?  " 
Have  you  any  better  explanation?  " 

"  I  have  not  come  to  any  conclusion." 

"  Has  Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes?  " 

The  words  took  away  my  breath  for  an  instant, 
but  a  glance  at  the  placid  face  and  steadfast  eyes  of 
my  companion  showed  that  no  surprise  was  in- 
tended. 

"  It  is  useless  for  us  to  pretend  that  we  do  not 
know  you.  Dr.  Watson,"  said  he.  "  The  records  of 
your  detective  have  reached  us  here,  and  you  could 
not  celebrate  him  without  being  known  yourself. 
When  Mortimer  told  me  your  name  he  could  not 
deny  your  identity.  If  you  are  here,  then  it  follows 
that  Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes  is  interesting  himself  in 
the  matter,  and  I  am  naturally  curious  to  know  what ; 
view  he  may  take." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  cannot  answer  that  question.'* 

"  May  I  ask  if  he  is  going  to  honour  us  with  a 
visit  himself?  " 

"  He  cannot  leave  town  at  present.    He  has 
other  cases  which  engage  his  attention." 

"  What  a  pity!    He  might  throw  some  light  on 

95 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

that  which  is  so  dark  to  us.  But  as  to  your  own 
researches,  if  there  is  any  possible  way  in  which  I 
can  be  of  service  to  you  I  trust  that  you  will  com- 
mand me.  If  I  had  any  indication  of  the  nature 
of  your  suspicions,  or  how  you  propose  to  investi- 
gate the  case,  I  might  perhaps  even  now  give  you 
some  aid  or  advice." 

I  assure  you  that  I  am  simply  here  upon  a  visit 
to  my  friend  Sir  Henry,  and  that  I  need  no  help  of 
any  kind.'' 

"Excellent!''  said  Stapleton.  "You  are  per- 
fectly right  to  be  wary  and  discreet.  I  am  justly 
reproved  for  what  I  feel  was  an  unjustifiable  intru- 
sion, and  I  promise  you  that  I  will  not  mention  the 
matter  again." 

We  had  come  to  a  point  where  a  narrow  grassy 
path  struck  off  from  the  road  and  wound  away 
across  the  moor.  A  steep,  boulder-sprinkled  hill 
lay  upon  the  right  which  had  in  bygone  days  been 
cut  into  a  granite  quarry.  The  face  which  was 
turned  towards  us  formed  a  dark  clifif,  with  ferns 
and  brambles  growing  in  its  niches.  From  over  a 
distant  rise  there  floated  a  grey  plume  of  smoke. 

"  A  moderate  walk  along  this  moor-path  brings 
us  to  Merripit  House,"  said  he.  "  Perhaps  you  will 
spare  an  hour  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  in- 
troducing you  to  my  sister." 

My  first  thought  was  that  I  should  be  by  Sir 
Henry's  side.  But  then  I  remembered  the  pile  of 
papers  and  bills  with  which  his  study  table  was  lit- 

96 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 


tered.  It  was  certain  that  I  could  not  help  him 
with  those.  And  Holmes  had  expressly  said  that 
I  should  study  the  neighbours  upon  the  moor.  I 
accepted  Stapleton's  invitation,  and  we  turned  to- 
gether down  the  path. 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  place,  the  moor,"  said  he,  look- 
ing round  over  the  undulating  downs,  long  green 
rollers,  with  crests  of  jagged  granite  foaming  up 
into  fantastic  surges.  You  never  tire  of  the  moor. 
You  cannot  think  the  wonderful  secrets  which  it 
contains.  It  is  so  vast,  and  so  barren,  and  so  mys- 
terious.'' 

You  know  it  well,  then?  " 

"  I  have  only  been  here  two  years.  The  residents 
would  call  me  a  new  comer.  We  came  shortly  af- 
ter Sir  Charles  settled.  But  my  tastes  led  me  to 
explore  every  part  of  the  country  round,  and  I 
should  think  that  there  are  few  men  who  know  it 
better  than  I  do." 

^'  Is  it  so  hard  to  know?  " 

"  Very  hard.  You  see,  for  example,  this  great 
plain  to  the  north  here,  with  the  queer  hills  break- 
ing out  of  it.  Do  you  observe  anything  remark- 
able about  that? " 

"  It  would  be  a  rare  place  for  a  gallop." 

"  You  would  naturally  think  so  and  the  thought 
has  cost  several  their  lives  before  now.  You  notice 
those  bright  green  spots  scattered  thickly  over 
it?" 

Yes,  they  seem  more  fertile  than  the  rest." 

97 


THE    HOUND    OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


Stapleton  laughed. 
That  is  the  great  Grimpen  Mire/'  said  he.  A 
false  step  yonder  means  death  to  man  or  beast. 
Only  yesterday  I  saw  one  of  the  moor  ponies  wan- 
der into  it.  He  never  came  out.  I  saw  his  head 
for  quite  a  long  time  craning  out  of  the  bog-hole, 
but  it  sucked  him  down  at  last.  Even  in  dry  sea- 
sons it  is  a  danger  to  cross  it,  but  after  these 
autumn  rains  it  is  an  awful  place.  And  yet  I  can 
find  my  way  to  the  very  heart  of  it  and  return  alive. 
By  George,  there  is  another  of  those  miserable 
ponies!" 

Something  brown  was  rolling  and  tossing  among 
the  green  sedges.  Then  a  long,  agonized,  writhing 
neck  shot  upwards  and  a  dreadful  cry  echoed  over 
the  moor.  It  turned  me  cold  with  horror,  but  my 
companion's  nerves  seemed  to  be  stronger  than 
mine. 

"It's  gone!"  said  he.  "The  mire  has  him. 
Two  in  two  days,  and  many  more,  perhaps,  for  they 
get  in  the  way  of  going  there  in  the  dry  weather, 
and  never  know  the  difference  until  the  mire  has 
them  in  its  clutch.  It's  a  bad  place,  the  great 
Grimpen  Mire." 

"  And  you  say  you  can  penetrate  it?  " 

"  Yes,  there  are  one  or  two  paths  which  a  very 
active  man  can  take.    I  have  found  them  out." 

"  But  why  should  you  wish  to  go  into  so  horrible 
a  place?  " 

"  Well,  you  see  the  hills  beyond?    They  are 

98 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 

really  islands  cut  off  on  all  sides  by  the  impassable 
mire,  which  has  crawled  round  them  in  the  course 
of  years.  That  is  where  the  rare  plants  and  the  but- 
terflies are,  if  you  have  the  wit  to  reach  them." 

"  I  shall  try  my  luck  some  day.'' 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  surprised  face. 
For  God's  sake  put  such  an  idea  out  of  your 
mind,"  said  he.  Your  blood  would  be  upon  my 
head.  I  assure  you  that  there  would  not  be  the 
least  chance  of  your  coming  back  alive.  It  is  only 
by  remembering  certain  complex  landmarks  that  I 
am  able  to  do  it." 

"  Halloa !  "  I  cried.    "  What  is  that?  " 

A  long,  low  moan,  indescribably  sad,  swept  over 
the  moor.  It  filled  the  whole  air,  and  yet  it  was 
impossible  to  say  whence  it  came.  From  a  dull 
murmur  it  swelled  into  a  deep  roar,  and  then  sank 
back  into  a  melancholy,  throbbing  murmur  once 
again.  Stapleton  looked  at  me  with  a  curious  ex- 
pression in  his  face. 

"Queer  place,  the  moor!"  said  he. 

"But  what  is  it?" 

"  The  peasants  say  it  is  the  Hound  of  the  Basker- 
villes  calling  for  its  prey.  I've  heard  it  once  or 
twice  before,  but  never  quite  so  loud." 

I  looked  round,  with  a  chill  of  fear  in  my  heart, 
at  the  huge  swelling  plain,  mottled  with  the  green 
patches  of  rushes.  Nothing  stirred  over  the  vast 
expanse  save  a  pair  of  ravens,  which  croaked  loudly 
from  a  tor  behind  us. 


99 


THE   HOUND    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  You  are  an  educated  man.  You  don't  believe 
such  nonsense  as  that?  "  said  1.  "  What  do  you 
think  is  the  cause  of  so  strange  a  sound?  " 

Bogs  make   queer   noises   sometimes.  It's 
the  mud  settling,  or  the  water  rising,  or  some- 
.  thing." 

"  No,  no,  that  was  a  living  voice." 
Well,  perhaps  it  was.    Did  you  ever  hear  a  bit- 
tern booming?  " 
"  No,  I  never  did." 
It's  a  very  rare  bird — practically  extinct — in 
England  now,  but  all  things  are  possible  upon  the 
moor.    Yes,  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that 
what  we  have  heard  is  the  cry  of  the  last  of  the 
bitterns." 

It's  the  weirdest,  strangest  thing  that  ever  I 
heard  in  my  life." 

"  Yes,  it's  rather  an  uncanny  place  altogether. 
Look  at  the  hill-side  yonder.  What  do  you  make 
of  those?  " 

The  whole  steep  slope  was  covered  with  grey  cir- 
cular rings  of  stone,  a  score  of  them  at  least. 

"  What  are  they?    Sheep-pens?  " 

"  No,  they  are  the  homes  of  our  worthy  ancestors. 
Prehistoric  man  lived  thickly  on  the  moor,  and  as 
no  one  in  particular  has  lived  there  since,  we  find  all 
his  little  arrangements  exactly  as  he  left  them. 
These  are  his  wigwams  with  the  roofs  off.  You  can 
even  see  his  hearth  and  his  couch  if  you  have  the 
curiosity  to  go  inside." 

100 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 

But  it  is  quite  a  town.  When  was  it  inhab- 
ited? " 

"  Neolithic  man — no  date." 
"  What  did  he  do?" 

He  grazed  his  cattle  on  these  slopes,  and  he 
learned  to  dig  for  tin  when  the  bronze  sword  began 
to  supersede  the  stone  axe.  Look  at  the  great 
trench  in  the  opposite  hill.  That  is  his  mark.  Yes, 
you  will  find  some  very  singular  points  about  the 
moor,  Dr.  Watson.  Oh,  excuse  me  an  instant!  It 
is  surely  Cyclopides." 

A  small  fly  or  moth  had  fluttered  across  our  path, 
and  in  an  instant  Stapleton  was  rushing  with  ex- 
traordinary energy  and  speed  in  pursuit  of  it.  To 
my  dismay  the  creature  flew  straight  for  the  great 
mire,  and  my  acquaintance  never  paused  for  an  in- 
stant, bounding  from  tuft  to  tuft  behind  it,  his  green 
net  waving  in  the  air.  His  grey  clothes  and  jerky, 
zigzag,  irregular  progress  made  him  not  unlike 
some  huge  moth  himself.  I  was  standing  watching 
his  pursuit  with  a  mixture  of  admiration  for  his  ex- 
traordinary activity  and  fear  lest  he  should  lose  his 
footing  in  the  treacherous  mire,  when  I  heard  the 
sound  of  steps,  and  turning  round  found  a  woman 
near  me  upon  the  path.  She  had  come  from  the 
direction  in  which  the  plume  of  smoke  indicated  the 
position  of  Merripit  House,  but  the  dip  of  the  moor 
had  hid  her  until  she  was  quite  close. 

I  could  not  doubt  that  this  was  the  Miss  Staple- 
ton  of  whom  I  had  been  told,  since  ladies  of  anv  sort 

lOI 


THE   HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

must  be  few  upon  the  moor,  and  I  remembered  that 
I  had  heard  someone  describe  her  as  being  a  beauty.  ' 
The  woman  who  approached  me  was  certainly  that, 
and  of  a  most  uncommon  type.  There  could  not 
have  been  a  greater  contrast  between  brother  and 
sister,  for  Stapleton  was  neutral  tinted,  with  Hght 
hair  and  grey  eyes,  while  she  was  darker  than  any 
brunette  whom  I  have  seen  in  England — slim,  ele- 
gant, and  tall.  She  had  a  proud,  finely  cut  face,  so 
regular  that  it  might  have  seemed  impassive  were 
it  not  for  the  sensitive  mouth  and  the  beautiful  dark, 
eager  eyes.  With  her  perfect  figure  and  elegant 
dress  she  was,  indeed,  a  strange  apparition  upon 
a  lonely  moorland  path.  Her  eyes  were  on  her 
brother  as  I  turned,  and  then  she  quickened  her  pace 
towards  me.  I  had  raised  my  hat,  and  was  about 
to  make  some  explanatory  remark,  when  her  own 
words  turned  all  my  thoughts  into  a  new  channel. 

Go  back!''  she  said.    ''Go  straight  back  to 
London,  instantly." 

I  could  only  stare  at  her  in  stupid  surprise.  Her 
eyes  blazed  at  me,  and  she  tapped  the  ground  im- 
patiently with  her  foot. 

"  Why  should  I  go  back?  "  I  asked. 
I  cannot  explain."    She  spoke  in  a  low,  eager 
voice,  with  a  curious  lisp  in  her  utterance.    "  But 
for  God's  sake  do  what  I  ask  you.    Go  back  and 
never  set  foot  upon  the  moor  again." 

''  But  I  have  only  just  come." 

''Man,  man!"  she  cried.    "Can  you  not  tell 

102 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 

when  a  warning  is  for  your  own  good?  Go  back  to 
London!  Start  to-night!  Get  away  from  this 
place  at  all  costs!  Hush,  my  brother  is  coming! 
Not  a  word  of  what  I  have  said.  Would  you  mind 
getting  that  orchid  for  me  among  the  mares-tails 
yonder?  We  are  very  rich  in  orchids  on  the  moor, 
though,  of  course,  you  are  rather  late  to  see  the 
beauties  of  the  place." 

Stapleton  had  abandoned  the  chase  and  came 
back  to  us  breathing  hard  and  flushed  with  his  ex- 
ertions. 

Halloa,  Beryl! said  he,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  tone  of  his  greeting  was  not  altogether  a 
cordial  one. 

Well,  Jack,  you  are  very  hot." 

"  Yes,  I  was  chasing  a  Cyclopides.  He  is  very 
rare  and  seldom  found  in  the  late  autumn.  What 
a  pity  that  I  should  have  missed  him!  "  He  spoke 
unconcernedly,  but  his  small  light  eyes  glanced  in- 
cessantly from  the  girl  to  me. 

"  You  have  introduced  yourselves,  I  can  see." 

"  Yes.  I  was  telling  Sir  Henry  that  it  was  rather 
late  for  him  to  see  the  true  beauties  of  the 
moor." 

"  Why,  who  do  you  think  this  is?  " 
"  I  imagine  that  it  must  be  Sir  Henry  Basker- 
ville." 

No,  no,"  said  1.  "  Only  a  humble  commoner, 
but  his  friend.    My  name  is  Dr.  Watson." 

A  flush  of  vexation  passed  over  her  expressive 

103 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

face.  "  We  have  been  talking  at  cross  purposes/' 
said  she. 

Why,  you  had  not  very  much  time  for  talk," 
her  brother  remarked,  with  the  same  questioning 
eyes. 

I  talked  as  if  Dr.  Watson  were  a  resident  instead 
of  being  merely  a  visitor,"  said  she.  It  cannot 
much  matter  to  him  whether  it  is  early  or  late  for 
the  orchids.  But  you  will  come  on,  will  you  not, 
and  see  Merripit  House?  " 

A  short  walk  brought  us  to  it,  a  bleak  moorland 
house,  once  the  farm  of  some  grazier  in  the  old 
prosperous  days,  but  now  put  into  repair  and  turned 
into  a  modern  dwelling.  An  orchard  surrounded 
it,  but  the  trees,  as  is  usual  upon  the  moor,  were 
stunted  and  nipped,  and  the  efifect  of  the  whole  place 
was  mean  and  melancholy.  We  were  admitted  by 
a  strange  wizened,  rusty-coated  old  man  servant, 
who  seemed  in  keeping  with  the  house.  Inside, 
however,  there  were  large  rooms  furnished  with  an 
elegance  in  which  I  seemed  to  recognise  the  taste 
of  the  lady.  As  I  looked  from  their  windows  at  the 
interminable  granite-flecked  moor  rolling  unbroken 
to  the  farthest  horizon  I  could  not  but  marvel  at 
what  could  have  brought  this  highly  educated 
man  and  this  beautiful  woman  to  live  in  such  a 
place. 

Queer  spot  to  choose,  is  it  not?  "  said  he,  as  if 
in  answer  to  my  thought.  "  And  yet  we  manage 
to  make  ourselves  fairly  happy,  do  we  not,  Beryl?  " 

104 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 

Quite  happy/'  said  she,  but  there  was  no  ring 
of  conviction  in  her  words. 

"  I  had  a  school,"  said  Stapleton.  "  It  was  in  the 
north  country.  The  work  to  a  man  of  my  tempera- 
ment was  mechanical  and  uninteresting,  but  the 
privilege  of  living  with  youth,  of  helping  to  mould 
those  young  minds  and  of  impressing  them  with 
one's  own  character  and  ideals,  was  very  dear  to  me. 
However,  the  fates  were  against  us.  A  serious  epi- 
demic broke  out  in  the  school  and  three  of  the  boys 
died.  It  never  recovered  from  the  blow,  and  much 
of  my  capital  was  irretrievably  swallowed  up.  And 
yet,  if  it  were  not  for  the  loss  of  the  charming  com- 
panionship of  the  boys,  I  could  rejoice  over  my  ovfn 
misfortune,  for,  with  my  strong  tastes  for  botany 
and  zoology,  I  find  an  unlimited  field  of  work  here, 
and  my  sister  is  as  devoted  to  Nature  as  I  am.  All 
this.  Dr.  Watson,  has  been  brought  upon  your  head 
by  your  expression  as  you  surveyed  the  moor  out 
of  our  window." 

"  It  certainly  did  cross  my  mind  that  it  might  be 
a  little  dull — less  for  you,  perhaps,  than  for  your 
sister." 

"  No,  no,  I  am  never  dull,"  said  she,  quickly. 

"  We  have  books,  we  have  our  studies,  and  we 
have  interesting  neighbours.  Dr.  Mortimer  is  a 
most  learned  man  in  his  own  line.  Poor  Sir  Charles 
was  also  an  admirable  companion.  We  knew  him 
well,  and  miss  him  more  than  I  can  tell.  Do  you 
think  that  I  should  intrude  if  I  were  to  call  this  af- 

105 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

ternoon  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  Sir  Hen- 
ry? " 

"  I  am  sure  that  he  would  be  delighted/' 
Then  perhaps  you  would  mention  that  I  propose 
to  do  so.  We  may  in  our  humble  way  do  some- 
thing to  make  things  more  easy  for  him  until  he 
becomes  accustomed  to  his  new  surroundings.  Will 
you  come  upstairs,  Dr.  Watson,  and  inspect  my  col- 
lection of  lepidoptera?  I  think  it  is  the  most  com- 
plete one  in  the  south-west  of  England.  By  the 
time  that  you  have  looked  through  them  lunch  will 
be  almost  ready.'' 

But  I  was  eager  to  get  back  to  my  charge.  The 
melancholy  of  the  moor,  the  death  of  the  unfortu- 
nate pony,  the  weird  sound  which  had  been  associ- 
ated with  the  grim  legend  of  the  Baskervilles,  all 
these  things  tinged  my  thoughts  with  sadness. 
Then  on  the  top  of  these  more  or  less  vague  im- 
pressions there  had  come  the  definite  and  distinct 
warning  of  Miss  Stapleton,  delivered  with  such  in- 
tense earnestness  that  I  could  not  doubt  that  some 
grave  and  deep  reason  lay  behind  it.  I  resisted  all 
pressure  to  stay  for  lunch,  and  I  set  off  at  once  upon 
my  return  journey,  taking  the  grass-grown  path  by 
which  we  had  come. 

It  seems,  however,  that  there  must  have  been 
some  short  cut  for  those  who  knew  it,  for  before 
I  had  reached  the  road  I  was  astounded  to  see 
Miss  Stapleton  sitting  upon  a  rock  by  the  side 
of  the  track.    Her  face  was  beautifully  flushed 

io6 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPlT  HOUSE 

with  her  exertions,  and  she  held  her  hand  to  her 
side. 

"  I  have  run  all  the  way  in  order  to  cut  you  off, 
Dr.  Watson,''  said  she.  I  had  not  even  time  to 
put  on  my  hat.  I  must  not  stop,  or  my  brother 
may  miss  me.  I  wanted  to  say  to  you  how  sorry 
I  am  about  the  stupid  mistake  I  made  in  thinking 
that  you  were  Sir  Henry.  Please  forget  the  words 
I  said,  which  have  no  application  whatever  to  you." 

But  I  can't  forget  them,  Miss  Stapleton,"  said 
I.  "I  am  Sir  Henry's  friend,  and  his  welfare  is  a 
very  close  concern  of  mine.  Tell  me  why  it  was 
that  you  were  so  eager  that  Sir  Henry  should  re- 
turn to  London." 

A  woman's  whim.  Dr.  Watson.  When  you 
know  me  better  you  will  understand  that  I  cannot 
always  give  reasons  for  what  I  say  or  do." 

No,  no.  I  remember  the  thrill  in  your  voice. 
I  remember  the  look  in  your  eyes.  Please,  please, 
be  frank  with  me,  Miss  Stapleton,  for  ever  since  I 
have  been  here  I  have  been  conscious  of  shadows 
all  round  me.  Life  has  become  like  that  great 
Grimpen  Mire,  with  little  green  patches  everywhere 
into  which  one  may  sink  and  with  no  guide  to  point 
the  track.  Tell  me  then  what  it  was  that  you 
meant,  and  I  will  promise  to  convey  your  warning 
to  Sir  Henry." 

An  expression  of  irresolution  passed  for  an  in- 
stant over  her  face,  but  her  eyes  had  hardened 
again  when  she  answered  me. 

107 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  You  make  too  much  of  it,  Dr.  Watson,"  said 
she.  My  brother  and  I  were  very  much  shocked 
by  the  death  of  Sir  Charles.  We  knew  him  very 
intimately,  for  his  favourite  walk  was  over  the  moor 
to  our  house.  He  was  deeply  impressed  with  the 
curse  which  hung  over  his  family,  and  when  this 
tragedy  came  I  naturally  felt  that  there  must  be 
some  grounds  for  the  fears  which  he  had  expressed. 
I  was  distressed  therefore  when  another  member  of 
the  family  came  down  to  live  here,  and  I  felt  that 
he  should  be  warned  of  the  danger  which  he  will 
run.    That  was  all  which  I  intended  to  convey/' 

But  what  is  the  danger? 

You  know  the  story  of  the  hound?  " 
"  I  do  not  believe  in  such  nonsense.'' 
"  But  I  do.    If  you  have  any  influence  with  Sir 
Henry,  take  him  away  from  a  place  which  has  al- 
ways been  fatal  to  his  family.    The  world  is  wide. 
Why  should  he  wish  to  live  at  the  place  of  danger?  " 

"  Because  it  is  the  place  of  danger.  That  is  Sir 
Henry's  nature.  I  fear  that  unless  you  can  give 
me  some  more  definite  information  than  this  it 
would  be  impossible  to  get  him  to  move." 

I  cannot  say  anything  definite,  for  I  do  not 
know  anything  definite." 

I  would  ask  you  one  more  question.  Miss  Sta- 
pleton.  If  you  meant  no  more  than  this  when  you 
first  spoke  to  me,  why  should  you  not  wish  your 
brother  to  overhear  what  you  said?  There  is  noth- 
ing to  which  he,  or  anyone  else,  could  object." 

1 08 


THE    STAPLETONS    OF    MERRIPIT  HOUSE 

"  My  brother  is  very  anxious  to  have  the  Hall 
inhabited,  for  he  thinks  that  it  is  for  the  good  of 
the  poor  folk  upon  the  moor.  He  would  be  very 
angry  if  he  knew  that  I  had  said  anything  which 
might  induce  Sir  Henry  to  go  away.  But  I  have 
done  my  duty  now  and  I  will  say  no  more.  I  must 
get  back,  or  he  will  miss  me  and  suspect  that  I  have 
seen  you.  Good-bye!  "  She  turned,  and  had  dis- 
appeared in  a  few  minutes  among  the  scattered 
boulders,  while  I,  with  my  soul  full  of  vague  fears, 
pursued  my  way  to  Baskerville  Hall. 


109 


VIII 

First  Report  of  Dr.  Watson 

FROM  this  point  onwards  I  will  follow  the 
course  of  events  by  transcribing  my  own  let- 
ters to  Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes  which  lie  before 
me  on  the  table.  One  page  is  missing,  but  other- 
wise they  are  exactly  as  written,  and  show  my  feel- 
ings and  suspicions  of  the  moment  more  accurately 
than  my  memory,  clear  as  it  is  upon  these  tragic 
events,  can  possibly  do. 

Baskerville  Hall,  October  13th. 
My  Dear  Holmes, — My  previous  letters  and 
telegrams  have  kept  you  pretty  well  up-to-date  as 
to  all  that  has  occurred  in  this  most  God-forsaken 
corner  of  the  world.  The  longer  one  stays  here  the 
more  does  the  spirit  of  the  moor  sink  into  one's 
soul,  its  vastness,  and  also  its  grim  charm.  When 
you  are  once  out  upon  its  bosom  you  have  left  all 
traces  of  modern  England  behind  you,  but  on  the 
other  hand  you  are  conscious  everywhere  of  the 
homes  and  the  work  of  the  prehistoric  people.  On 
all  sides  of  you  as  you  walk  are  the  houses  of  these 
forgotten  folk,  with  their  graves  and  the  huge 
monoliths  which  are  supposed  to  have  marked  their 
temples.     As  you  look  at  their  grey  stone  huts 

no 


FIRST    REPORT    OF    DR.  WATSON 

against  the  scarred  hill-sides  you  leave  your  own 
age  behind  you,  and  if  you  were  to  see  a  skin-clad, 
hairy  man  crawl  out  from  the  low  door,  fitting  a 
flint-tipped  arrow  on  to  the  string  of  his  bow,  you 
would  feel  that  his  presence  there  was  more  natural 
than  your  own.  The  strange  thing  is  that  they 
should  have  lived  so  thickly  on  what  must  always 
have  been  most  unfruitful  soil.  I  am  no  anti- 
quarian, but  I  could  imagine  that  they  were  some 
unwarlike  and  harried  race  who  were  forced  to  ac- 
cept that  which  none  other  would  occupy. 

All  this,  however,  is  foreign  to  the  mission  on 
which  you  sent  me,  and  will  probably  be  very  unin- 
teresting to  your  severely  practical  mind.  I  can 
still  remember  your  complete  indifference  as  to 
whether  the  sun  moved  round  the  earth  or  the  earth 
round  the  sun.  Let  me,  therefore,  return  to  the 
facts  concerning  Sir  Henry  Baskerville. 

If  you  have  not  had  any  report  within  the  last 
few  days  it  is  because  up  to  to-day  there  was  noth- 
ing of  importance  to  relate.  Then  a  very  surpris- 
ing circumstance  occurred,  which  I  shall  tell  you 
in  due  course.  But,  first  of  all,  I  must  keep  you 
in  touch  with  some  of  the  other  factors  in  the  sit- 
uation. 

One  of  these,  concerning  which  I  have  said  lit- 
tle, is  the  escaped  convict  upon  the  moor.  There 
is  strong  reason  now  to  believe  that  he  has  got  right 
away,  which  is  a  considerable  relief  to  the  lonely 
householders  of  this  district.    A  fortnight  has 

III 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

passed  since  his  flight,  during  which  he  has  not 
been  seen  and  nothing  has  been  heard  of  him.  It 
is  surely  inconceivable  that  he  could  have  held  out 
upon  the  moor  during  all  that  time.  Of  course, 
so  far  as  his  concealment  goes  there  is  no  difficulty 
at  all.  Any  one  of  these  stone  huts  would  give 
him  a  hiding-place.  But  there  is  nothing  to  eat 
unless  he  were  to  catch  and  slaughter  one  of  the 
moor  sheep.  We  think,  therefore,  that  he  has 
gone,  and  the  outlying  farmers  sleep  the  better  in 
consequence. 

We  are  four  able-bodied  men  in  this  household, 
so  that  we  could  take  good  care  of  ourselves,  but 
I  confess  that  I  have  had  uneasy  moments  when  I 
have  thought  of  the  Stapletons.  They  live  miles 
from  any  help.  There  are  one  maid,  an  old  man- 
servant, the  sister,  and  the  brother,  the  latter  not 
a  very  strong  man.  They  would  be  helpless  in  the 
hands  of  a  desperate  fellow  like  this  Notting  Hill 
criminal,  if  he  could  once  effect  an  entrance.  Both 
Sir  Henry  and  I  were  concerned  at  their  situation, 
and  it  was  suggested  that  Perkins  the  groom 
should  go  over  to  sleep  there,  but  Stapleton  would 
not  hear  of  it. 

The  fact  is  that  our  friend  the  baronet  begins  to 
display  a  considerable  interest  in  our  fair  neigh- 
bour. It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  for  time  hangs 
heavily  in  this  lonely  spot  to  an  active  man  like  him, 
and  she  is  a  very  fascinating  and  beautiful  woman. 
There  is  something  tropical  and  exotic  about  her 

112 


FIRST    REPORT    OF    DR.  WATSON 

which  forms  a  singular  contrast  to  her  cool  and 
unemotional  brother.  Yet  he  also  gives  the  idea 
of  hidden  fires.  He  has  certainly  a  very  marked 
influence  over  her,  for  I  have  seen  her  continually 
glance  at  him  as  she  talked  as  if  seeking  approba- 
tion for  what  she  said.  I  trust  that  he  is  kind  to 
her.  There  is  a  dry  glitter  in  his  eyes,  and  a  firm 
set  of  his  thin  lips,  which  goes  with  a  positive  and 
possibly  a  harsh  nature.  You  would  find  him  an 
interesting  study. 

He  came  over  to  call  upon  Baskerville  on  that 
first  day,  and  the  very  next  morning  he  took  us 
both  to  show  us  the  spot  where  the  legend  of  the 
wicked  Hugo  is  supposed  to  have  had  its  origin. 
It  was  an  excursion  of  some  miles  across  the  moor 
to  a  place  which  is  so  dismal  that  it  might  have 
suggested  the  story.  We  found  a  short  valley  be- 
tween rugged  tors  which  led  to  an  open,  grassy 
space  flecked  over  with  the  white  cotton  grass.  In 
the  middle  of  it  rose  two  great  stones,  worn  and 
sharpened  at  the  upper  end,  until  they  looked  like 
the  huge  corroding  fangs  of  some  monstrous  beast. 
In  every  way  it  corresponded  with  the  scene  of  the 
old  tragedy.  Sir  Henry  was  much  interested,  and 
asked  Stapleton  more  than  once  whether  he  did 
really  believe  in  the  possibility  of  the  interference 
of  the  supernatural  in  the  afifairs  of  men.  He 
spoke  lightly,  but  it  was  evident  that  he  was  very 
much  in  earnest.  Stapleton  was  guarded  in  his  re- 
plies, but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  said  less  than 

113 


THE    HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

he  might,  and  that  he  would  not  express  his  whole 
opinion  out  of  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  the 
baronet.  He  told  us  of  similar  cases,  where  fam- 
ilies had  suffered  from  some  evil  influence,  and  he 
left  us  with  the  impression  that  he  shared  the  popu- 
lar view  upon  the  matter. 

^  On  our  way  back  we  stayed  for  lunch  at  Merripit 
House,  and  it  was  there  that  Sir  Henry  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Miss  Stapleton.  From  the  first 
moment  that  he  saw  her  he  appeared  to  be  strongly 
attracted  by  her,  and  I  am  much  mistaken  if  the 
feeling  was  not  mutual.  He  referred  to  her  again 
and  again  on  our  walk  home,  and  since  then  hardly 
a  day  has  passed  that  we  have  not  seen  something 
of  the  brother  and  sister.  They  dine  here  to-night, 
and  there  is  some  talk  of  our  going  to  them  next 
week.  One  would  imagine  that  such  a  match 
would  be  very  welcome  to  Stapleton,  and  yet  I  have 
more  than  once  caught  a  look  of  the  strongest  dis- 
approbation in  his  face  when  Sir  Henry  has  been 
paying  some  attention  to  his  sister.  He  is  much 
attached  to  her,  no  doubt,  and  would  lead  a  lonely 
life  without  her,  but  it  would  seem  the  height  of 
selfishness  if  he  were  to  stand  in  the  way  of  her 
making  so  brilliant  a  marriage.  Yet  I  am  certain 
that  he  does  not  wish  their  intimacy  to  ripen  into 
love,  and  I  have  several  times  observed  that  he  has 
taken  pains  to  prevent  them  from  being  tete-d-tete. 
By  the  way,  your  instructions  to  me  never  to  allow 
Sir  Henry  to  go  out  alone  will  become  very  much 

114 


FIRST    REPORT    OF    DR.  WATSON 

more  onerous  if  a  love  affair  were  to  be  added  to 
our  other  difficulties.  My  popularity  would  soon 
suffer  if  I  were  to  carry  out  your  orders  to  the 
letter. 

The  other  day — Thursday,  to  be  more  exact — 
Dr.  Mortimer  lunched  with  us.  He  has  been  ex- 
cavating a  barrow  at  Long  Down,  and  has  got  a 
prehistoric  skull  which  fills  him  with  great  joy. 
Never  was  there  such  a  single-minded  enthusiast  as 
he!  The  Stapletons  came  in  afterwards,  and  the 
good  doctor  took  us  all  to  the  Yew  Alley,  at  Sir 
Henry's  request,  to  show  us  exactly  how  everything 
occurred  upon  that  fatal  night.  It  is  a  long,  dismal 
walk,  the  Yew  Alley,  between  two  high  walls  of 
clipped  hedge,  with  a  narrow  band  of  grass  upon 
either  side.  At  the  far  end  is  an  old  tumble-down 
summer-house.  Half-way  down  is  the  moor-gate, 
where  the  old  gentleman  left  his  cigar-ash.  It  is  a 
white  wooden  gate  with  a  latch.  Beyond  it  lies  the 
wide  moor.  I  remembered  your  theory  of  the  af- 
fair and  tried  to  picture  all  that  had  occurred.  As 
the  old  man  stood  there  he  saw  something  coming 
across  the  moor,  something  which  terrified  him  so 
that  he  lost  his  wits,  and  ran  and  ran  until  he  died 
of  sheer  horror  and  exhaustion.  There  was  the 
long,  gloomy  tunnel  down  which  he  fled.  And 
from  what?  A  sheep-dog  of  the  moor?  Or  a 
spectral  hound,  black,  silent,  and  monstrous?  Was 
there  a  human  agency  in  the  matter?  Did  the  pale, 
watchful  Barrymore  know  more  than  he  cared  to 

115 


THE   HOUND    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 


say?  It  was  all  dim  and  vague,  but  always  there 
is  the  dark  shadow  of  crime  behind  it. 

One  other  neighbour  I  have  met  since  I  wrote 
last.  This  is  Mr.  Frankland,  of  Lafter  Hall,  who 
lives  some  four  miles  to  the  south  of  us.  He  is  an 
elderly  man,  red  faced,  white  haired,  and  choleric. 
His  passion  is  for  the  British  law,  and  he  has  spent 
a  large  fortune  in  litigation.  He  fights  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  fighting  and  is  equally  ready  to  take  up 
either  side  of  a  question,  so  that  it  is  no  wonder 
that  he  has  found  it  a  costly  amusement.  Some- 
times he  will  shut  up  a  right  of  way  and  defy  the 
parish  to  make  him  open  it.  At  others  he  will  with 
his  own  hands  tear  down  some  other  man's  gate  and 
declare  that  a  path  has  existed  there  from  time  im- 
memorial, defying  the  owner  to  prosecute  him  for 
trespass.  He  is  learned  in  old  manorial  and  com- 
munal rights,  and  he  applies  his  knowledge  some- 
times in  favour  of  the  villagers  of  Fernworthy  and 
sometimes  against  them,  so  that  he  is  periodically 
either  carried  in  triumph  down  the  village  street  or 
else  burned  in  effigy,  according  to  his  latest  exploit. 
He  is  said  to  have  about  seven  lawsuits  upon  his 
hands  at  present,  which  will  probably  swallow  up 
the  remainder  of  his  fortune  and  so  draw  his  sting 
and  leave  him  harmless  for  the  future.  Apart  from 
the  law  he  seems  a  kindly,  good-natured  person,  and 
I  only  mention  him  because  you  were  particular 
that  I  should  send  some  description  of  the  people 
who  surround  us.    He  is  curiously  employed  at 

ii6 


FIRST    REPORT    OF    DR.  WATSON 

present,  for,  being  an  amateur  astronomer,  he  has 
an  excellent  telescope,  with  which  he  lies  upon  the 
roof  of  his  own  house  and  sweeps  the  moor  all  day 
in  the  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  escaped 
convict.  If  he  would  confine  his  energies  to  this 
all  would  be  well,  but  there  are  rumours  that  he 
intends  to  prosecute  Dr.  Mortimer  for  opening  a 
grave  without  the  consent  of  the  next-of-kin,  be- 
cause he  dug  up  the  neolithic  skull  in  the  barrow 
on  Long  Down.  He  helps  to  keep  our  lives  from 
being  monotonous  and  gives  a  little  comic  relief 
where  it  is  badly  needed. 

And  now,  having  brought  you  up  to  date  in  the 
escaped  convict,  the  Stapletons,  Dr.  Mortimer,  and 
Frankland,  of  Lafter  Hall,  let  me  end  on  that  which 
is  most  important  and  tell  you  more  about  the 
Barrymores,  and  especially  about  the  surprising  de- 
velopment of  last  night. 

First  of  all  about  the  test  telegram,  which  you 
sent  from  London  in  order  to  make  sure  that  Barry- 
more  was  really  here.  I  have  already  explained 
that  the  testimony  of  the  postmaster  shows  that  the 
test  was  worthless  and  that  we  have  no  proof  one 
way  or  the  other.  I  told  Sir  Henry  how  the  matter 
stood,  and  he  at  once,  in  his  downright  fashion  had 
Barrymore  up  and  asked  him  whether  he  had  re- 
ceived the  telegram  himself.  Barrymore  said  that 
he  had. 

"Did  the  boy  deliver  it  into  your  own  hands?'* 
asked  Sir  Henry. 

117 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

Barrymore  looked  surprised,  and  considered  for 
a  little  time. 

"  No,"  said  he,    I  was  in  the  box-room  at  the 
time,  and  my  wife  brought  it  up  to  me.'* 
Did  you  answer  it  yourself?  " 

"  No ;  I  told  my  wife  what  to  answer  and  she 
went  down  to  write  it." 

In  the  evening  he  recurred  to  the  subject  of  his 
own  accord. 

"  I  could  not  quite  understand  the  object  of  your 
questions  this  morning.  Sir  Henry,"  said  he.  I 
trust  that  they  do  not  mean  that  I  have  done  any- 
thing to  forfeit  your  confidence?  " 

Sir  Henry  had  to  assure  him  that  it  was  not  so  . 
and  pacify  him  by  giving  him  a  considerable  part 
of  his  old  wardrobe,  the  London  outfit  having  now 
all  arrived. 

Mrs.  Barrymore  is  of  interest  to  me.  She  is  a 
heavy,  solid  person,  very  limited,  intensely  respect- 
able, and  inclined  to  be  puritanical.  You  could 
hardly  conceive  a  less  emotional  subject.  Yet  I 
have  told  you  how,  on  the  first  night  here,  I  heard 
her  sobbing  bitterly,  and  since  then  I  have  more 
than  once  observed  traces  of  tears  upon  her  face. 
Some  deep  sorrow  gnaws  ever  at  her  heart.  Some- 
times I  wonder  if  she  has  a  guilty  memory  which 
haunts  her,  and  sometimes  I  suspect  Barrymore  of 
being  a  domestic  tyrant.  I  have  always  felt  that 
there  was  something  singular  and  questionable  in 
this  man's  character,  but  the  adventure  of  last  night 
brings  all  my  suspicions  to  a  head. 

ii8 


FIRST    REPORT    OF    DR.  WATSON 

And  yet  it  may  seem  a  small  matter  in  itself. 
You  are  aware  that  I  am  not  a  very  sound  sleeper, 
and  since  I  have  been  on  guard  in  this  house  my 
slumbers  have  been  lighter  than  ever.  Last  night, 
about  two  in  the  morning,  I  was  aroused  by  a 
stealthy  step  passing  my  room.  I  rose,  opened  my 
door,  and  peeped  out.  A  long  black  shadow  was 
trailing  down  the  corridor.  It  was  thrown  by  a 
man  who  walked  softly  down  the  passage  with  a 
candle  held  in  his  hand.  He  was  in  shirt  and 
trousers,  with  no  covering  to  his  feet.  I  could 
merely  see  the  outline,  but  his  height  told  me  that 
it  was  Barrymore.  He  walked  very  slowly  and  cir- 
cumspectly, and  there  was  something  indescribably 
guilty  and  furtive  in  his  whole  appearance. 

I  have  told  you  that  the  corridor  is  broken  by  the 
balcony  which  runs  round  the  hall,  but  that  it  is 
resumed  upon  the  farther  side.  I  waited  until  he 
had  passed  out  of  sight  and  then  I  followed  him. 
When  I  came  round  the  balcony  he  had  reached 
the  end  of  the  farther  corridor,  and  I  could  see  from 
the  glimmer  of  light  through  an  open  door  that 
he  had  entered  one  of  the  rooms.  Now,  all  these 
rooms  are  unfurnished  and  unoccupied,  so  that  his 
expedition  became  more  mysterious  than  ever. 
The  light  shone  steadily  as  if  he  were  standing  mo- 
tionless. I  crept  down  the  passage  as  noiselessly 
as  I  could  and  peeped  round  the  corner  of  the  door. 

Barrymore  was  crouching  at  the  window  with 
the  candle  held  against  the  glass.    His  profile  was 

119 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

half  turned  towards  me,  and  his  face  seemed  to  be 
rigid  with  expectation  as  he  stared  out  into  the 
blackness  of  the  moor.  For  some  minutes  he  stood 
watching  intently.  Then  he  gave  a  deep  groan  and 
with  an  impatient  gesture  he  put  out  the  light.  In- 
stantly I  made  my  way  back  to  my  room,  and  very 
shortly  came  the  stealthy  steps  passing  once  more 
upon  their  return  journey.  Long  afterwards  when 
I  had  fallen  into  a  light  sleep  I  heard  a  key  turn 
somewhere  in  a  lock,  but  I  could  not  tell  whence 
the  sound  came.  What  it  all  means  I  cannot  guess, 
but  there  is  some  secret  business  going  on  in  this 
house  of  gloom  which  sooner  or  later  we  shall  get 
to  the  bottom  of.  I  do  not  trouble  you  with  my 
theories,  for  you  asked  me  to  furnish  you  only  with 
facts.  I  have  had  a  long  talk  with  Sir  Henry  this 
morning,  and  we  have  made  a  plan  of  campaign 
founded  upon  my  observations  of  last  night.  I  will 
not  speak  about  it  just  now,  but  it  should  make  my 
next  report  interesting  reading. 


120 


His  face  seemed  to  be  rigid  with  expectation  as  'he 
stared  out  into  the  blackness  of  the  moor. 


9 


c 

if'* 


IX 

[Second  Report  of  Dr.  Watson.] 

The  Light  upon  the  Moor 

Baskerville  Hall,  Oct.  15th. 

MY  DEAR  HOLMES,— If  I  was  com- 
pelled  to  leave  you  without  much  news 
during  the  early  days  of  my  mission  you 
must  acknowledge  that  I  am  making  up  for  lost 
time,  and  that  events  are  now  crowding  thick  and 
fast  upon  us.  In  my  last  report  I  ended  upon  my 
top  note  with  Barrymore  at  the  window,  and  now 
I  have  quite  a  budget  already  which  will,  unless  I 
am  much  mistaken,  considerably  surprise  you. 
Things  have  taken  a  turn  which  I  could  not  have 
anticipated.  In  some  ways  they  have  within  the 
last  forty-eight  hours  become  much  clearer  and  in 
some  ways  they  have  become  more  complicated. 
But  I  will  tell  you  all  and  you  shall  judge  for  your- 
self. 

Before  breakfast  on  the  morning  following  my 
adventure  I  went  down  the  corridor  and  examined 
the  room  in  which  Barrymore  had  been  on  the  night 
before.  The  western  window  through  which  he 
had  stared  so  intently  has,  I  noticed,  one  peculiarity 
above  all  other  windows  in  the  house — it  commands 


121 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

the  nearest  outlook  on  to  the  moor.  There  is  an 
opening  between  two  trees  which  enables  one  from 
this  point  of  view  to  look  right  down  upon  it,  while 
from  all  the  other  windows  it  is  only  a  distant 
glimpse  which  can  be  obtained.  It  follows,  there- 
fore, that  Barrymore,  since  only  this  window  would 
serve  his  purpose,  must  have  been  looking  out  for 
something  or  somebody  upon  the  moor.  The 
night  was  very  dark,  so  that  I  can  hardly  imagine 
how  he  could  have  hoped  to  see  anyone.  It  had 
struck  me  that  it  was  possible  that  some  love  in- 
trigue was  on  foot.  That  would  have  accounted 
for  his  stealthy  movements  and  also  for  the  un- 
easiness of  his  wife.  The  man  is  a  striking-looking 
fellow,  very  well  equipped  to  steal  the  heart  of  a 
country  girl,  so  that  this  theory  seemed  to  have 
something  to  support  it.  That  opening  of  the  door 
which  I  had  heard  after  I  had  returned  to  my  room 
might  mean  that  he  had  gone  out  to  keep  some 
clandestine  appointment.  So  I  reasoned  with  my- 
self in  the  morning,  and  I  tell  you  the  direction  of 
my  suspicions,  however  much  the  result  may  have 
shown  that  they  were  unfounded. 

But  whatever  the  true  explanation  of  Barry- 
more's  movements  might  be,  I  felt  that  the  respon- 
sibility of  keeping  them  to  myself  until  I  could  ex- 
plain them  was  more  than  I  could  bear.  I  had  an 
interview  with  the  baronet  in  his  study  after  break- 
fast, and  I  told  him  all  that  I  had  seen.  He  was  less 
surprised  than  I  had  expected. 

122 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 


"  I  knew  that  Barrymore  walked  about  nights, 
and  I  had  a  mind  to  speak  to  him  about  it/'  said  he. 
"  Two  or  three  times  I  have  heard  his  steps  in  the 
passage,  coming  and  going,  just  about  the  hour  you 
name." 

"  Perhaps  then  he  pays  a  visit  every  night  to  that 
particular  window,"  I  suggested. 

"  Perhaps  he  does.  If  so,  we  should  be  able  to 
shadow  him,  and  see  what  it  is  that  he  is  after.  I 
wonder  what  your  friend  Holmes  would  do,  if  he 
were  here." 

"  I  believe  that  he  would  do  exactly  what  you 
now  suggest,"  said  I.  "  He  would  follow  Barry- 
more  and  see  what  he  did." 

"  Then  we  shall  do  it  together." 

"  But  surely  he  would  hear  us." 

"  The  man  is  rather  deaf,  and  in  any  case  we  must 
take  our  chance  of  that.  We'll  sit  up  in  my  room 
to-night,  and  wait  until  he  passes."  Sir  Henry 
rubbed  his  hands  with  pleasure,  and  it  was  evident 
that  he  hailed  the  adventure  as  a  relief  to  his  some-  ^ 
what  quiet  life  upon  the  moor. 

The  baronet  has  been  in  communication  with  the 
architect  who  prepared  the  plans  for  Sir  Charles, 
and  with  a  contractor  from  London,  so  that  we  may 
expect  great  changes  to  begin  here  soon.  There 
have  been  decorators  and  furnishers  up  from 
Plymouth,  and  it  is  evident  that  our  friend  has  large 
ideas,  and  means  to  spare  no  pains  or  expense  to 
restore  the  grandeur  of  his  family.    When  the 

123 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

house  is  renovated  and  refurnished,  all  that  he  will 
need  will  be  a  wife  to  make  it  complete.  Between 
ourselves  there  are  pretty  clear  signs  that  this  will 
not  be  wanting  if  the  lady  is  willing,  for  I  have  sel- 
dom seen  a  man  more  infatuated  with  a  woman 
than  he  is  with  our  beautiful  neighbour,  Miss  Sta- 
pleton.  And  yet  the  course  of  true  love  does  not 
run  quite  as  smoothly  as  one  would  under  the  cir- 
cumstances expect.  To-day,  for  example,  its  sur- 
face was  broken  by  a  very  unexpected  ripple,  which 
has  caused  our  friend  considerable  perplexity  and 
annoyance. 

After  the  conversation  which  I  have  quoted  about 
Barrymore  Sir  Henry  put  on  his  hat  and  prepared 
to  go  out.    As  a  matter  of  course  I  did  the  same. 

What,  are  you  coming,  Watson? he  asked, 
looking  at  me  in  a  curious  way. 

"  That  depends  on  whether  you  are  going  on  the 
moor,"  said  1. 

"Yes,  lam." 

"  Well,  you  know  what  my  instructions  are.  I 
am  sorry  to  intrude,  but  you  heard  how  earnestly 
Holmes  insisted  that  I  should  not  leave  you,  and 
especially  that  you  should  not  go  alone  upon  the 
moor." 

Sir  Henry  put  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  with 
a  pleasant  smile. 

My  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "  Holmes,  with  all  his 
wisdom,  did  not  foresee  some  things  which  have 
happened  since  I  have  been  on  the  moor.    You  un- 

124 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 

derstand  me?  I  am  sure  that  you  are  the  last  man 
in  the  world  who  would  wish  to  be  a  spoil-sport.  I 
must  go  out  alone." 

It  put  me  in  a  most  awkward  position.  I  was  at 
a  loss  what  to  say  or  what  to  do,  and  before  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  he  picked  up  his  cane  and  was 
gone. 

But  when  I  came  to  think  the  matter  over  my 
conscience  reproached  me  bitterly  for  having  on 
any  pretext  allowed  him  to  go  out  of  my  sight.  I 
imagined  what  my  feelings  would  be  if  I  had  to 
return  to  you  and  to  confess  that  some  misfortune 
had  occurred  through  my  disregard  for  your  in- 
structions. I  assure  you  my  cheeks  flushed  at  the 
very  thought.  It  might  not  even  now  be  too  late 
to  overtake  him,  so  I  set  off  at  once  in  the  direction 
of  Merripit  House. 

I  hurried  along  the  road  at  the  top  of  my  speed 
without  seeing  anything  of  Sir  Henry,  until  I  came 
to  the  point  where  the  moor  path  branches  oflf. 
There,  fearing  that  perhaps  I  had  come  in  the 
wrong  direction  after  all,  I  mounted  a  hill  from 
which  I  could  command  a  view — the  same  hill 
which  is  cut  into  the  dark  quarry.  Thence  I  saw 
him  at  once.  He  was  on  the  moor  path,  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  off,  and  a  lady  was  by  his  side 
who  could  only  be  Miss  Stapleton.  It  was  clear 
that  there  was  already  an  understanding  between 
them  and  that  they  had  met  by  appointment.  They 
were  walking  slowly  along  in  deep  conversation, 

125 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

and  I  saw  her  making  quick  little  movements  of  her 
hands  as  if  she  were  very  earnest  in  what  she  was 
saying,  while  he  listened  intently,  and  once  or  twice 
shook  his  head  in  strong  dissent.  I  stood  among 
the  rocks  watching  them,  very  much  puzzled  as  to 
what  I  should  do  next.  To  follow  them  and  break 
into  their  intimate  conversation  seemed  to  be  an 
outrage,  and  yet  my  clear  duty  was  never  for  an  in- 
stant to  let  him  out  of  my  sight.  To  act  the  spy 
upon  a  friend  was  a  hateful  task.  Still,  I  could  see 
no  better  course  than  to  observe  him  from  the  hill, 
and  to  clear  my  conscience  by  confessing  to  him 
afterwards  what  I  had  done.  It  is  true  that  if  any 
sudden  danger  had  threatened  him  I  was  too  far 
away  to  be  of  use,  and  yet  I  am  sure  that  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  the  position  was  very  diffi- 
cult, and  that  there  was  nothing  more  which  I 
could  do. 

Our  friend.  Sir  Henry,  and  the  lady  had  halted 
on  the  path  and  were  standing  deeply  absorbed  in 
their  conversation,  when  I  was  suddenly  aware  that 
I  was  not  the  only  witness  of  their  interview.  A 
wisp  of  green  floating  in  the  air  caught  my  eye,  and 
another  glance  showed  me  that  it  was  carried  on  a 
stick  by  a  man  who  was  moving  among  the  broken 
ground.  It  was  Stapleton  with  his  butterfly-net. 
He  was  very  much  closer  to  the  pair  than  I  was, 
and  he  appeared  to  be  moving  in  their  direction. 
At  this  instant  Sir  Henry  suddenly  drew  Miss  Sta- 
pleton to  his  side.    His  arm  was  round  her,  but  it 

126  ^ 


r 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 

seemed  to  me  that  she  was  straining  away  from  him 
with  her  face  averted.  He  stooped  his  head  to  hers, 
and  she  raised  one  hand  as  if  in  protest.  Next  mo- 
ment I  saw  them  spring  apart  and  turn  hurriedly 
round.  Stapleton  was  the  cause  of  the  interrup- 
tion. He  was  running  wildly  towards  them,  his 
absurd  net  dangling  behind  him.  He  gesticulated 
and  almost  danced  with  excitement  in  front  of  the 
lovers.  What  the  scene  meant  I  could  not  im- 
agine, but  it  seemed  to  me  that  Stapleton  was  abus- 
ing Sir  Henry,  who  offered  explanations,  which 
became  more  angry  as  the  other  refused  to  accept 
them.  The  lady  stood  by  in  haughty  silence. 
Finally  Stapleton  turned  upon  his  heel  and  beck- 
oned in  a  peremptory  way  to  his  sister,  who,  after 
an  irresolute  glance  at  Sir  Henry,  walked  off  by  the 
side  of  her  brother.  The  naturalist's  angry  gestures 
showed  that  the  lady  was  included  in  his  displeas- 
ure. The  baronet  stood  for  a  minute  looking  after 
them,  and  then  he  walked  slowly  back  the  way  that 
he  had  come,  his  head  hanging,  the  very  picture  of 
dejection. 

What  all  this  meant  I  could  not  imagine,  but  I 
was  deeply  ashamed  to  have  witnessed  so  intimate 
a  scene  without  my  friend's  knowledge.  I  ran 
down  the  hill  therefore  and  met  the  baronet  at  the 
bottom.  His  face  was  flushed  with  anger  and  his 
brows  were  wrinkled,  like  one  who  is  at  his  wits' 
ends  what  to  do. 

''Halloa,  Watson!    Where  have  you  dropped 

127 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

from?  "  said  he.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you 
came  after  me  in  spite  of  all? 

I  explained  everything  to  him:  how  I  had  found 
it  impossible  to  remain  behind,  how  I  had  followed 
him,  and  how  I  had  witnessed  all  that  had  occurred. 
For  an  instant  his  eyes  blazed  at  me,  but  my  f rank- 
-  ness  disarmed  his  anger,  and  he  broke  at  last  into  a 
rather  rueful  laugh. 

"  You  would  have  thought  the  middle  of  that 
prairie  a  fairly  safe  place  for  a  man  to  be  private," 
said  he,  but,  by  thunder,  the  whole  country-side 
seems  to  have  been  out  to  see  me  do  my  wooing— 
and  a  mighty  poor  wooing  at  that!  Where  had 
you  engaged  a  seat? 

"  I  was  on  that  hill.'' 

"  Quite  in  the  back  row,  eh?  But  her  brother 
was  well  up  to  the  front.  Did  you  see  him  come 
out  on  us?  " 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"  Did  he  ever  strike  you  as  being  crazy — this 
brother  of  hers?  " 

I  can't  say  that  he  ever  did." 

"  I  daresay  not.  I  always  thought  him  sane 
enough  until  to-day,  but  you  can  take  it  from  me 
that  either  he  or  I  ought  to  be  in  a  strait- jacket. 
What's  the  matter  with  me,  anyhow?  You've 
lived  near  me  for  some  weeks,  Watson.  Tell  me 
straight,  now!  Is  there  anything  that  would  pre- 
vent me  from  making  a  good  husband  to  a  woman 
that  I  loved?" 

X28 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 


"  I  should  say  not." 

*^  He  can't  object  to  my  worldly  position,  so  it 
must  be  myself  that  he  has  this  down  on.  What 
has  he  against  me?  I  never  hurt  man  or  woman 
in  my  life  that  I  know  of.  And  yet  he  would  not 
so  much  as  let  me  touch  the  tips  of  her  fingers." 

"Did  he  say  so?" 
That,  and  a  deal  more.  I  tell  you,  Watson, 
I've  only  known  her  these  few  weeks,  but  from  the 
first  I  just  felt  that  she  was  made  for  me,  and  she, 
too — she  was  happy  when  she  was  with  me,  and 
that  ril  swear.  There's  a  light  in  a  woman's  eyes 
that  speaks  louder  than  words.  But  he  has  never 
let  us  get  together,  and  it  was  only  to-day  for  the 
first  time  that  I  saw  a  chance  of  having  a  few  words 
with  her  alone.  She  was  glad  to  meet  me,  but 
when  she  did,  it  was  not  love  that  she  would  talk 
about,  and  she  wouldn't  have  let  me  talk  about  it 
either  if  she  could  have  stopped  it.  She  kept  com- 
ing back  to  it  that  this  was  a  place  of  danger,  and 
that  she  would  never  be  happy  until  I  had  left  it. 
I  told  her  that  since  I  had  seen  her  I  was  in  no 
hurry  to  leave  it,  and  that  if  she  really  wanted  me 
to  go  the  only  way  to  work  it  was  for  her  to  arrange 
to  go  with  me.  With  that  I  offered  in  as  many 
words  to  marry  her,  but  before  she  could  answer 
down  came  this  brother  of  hers,  running  at  us  with 
a  face  on  him  like  a  madman.  He  was  just  white 
with  rage,  and  those  light  eyes  of  his  were  blazing 
with  fury.    What  was  I  doing  with  the  lady?  How 

129 


THE   HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

dared  I  of¥er  her  attentions  which  were  distasteful 
to  her?  Did  I  think  that  because  I  was  a  baronet 
I  could  do  what  I  liked?  If  he  had  not  been  her 
brother  I  should  have  known  better  how  to  answer 
him.  As  it  was  I  told  him  that  my  feelings  tow- 
ards his  sister  were  such  as  I  was  not  ashamed  of, 
and  that  I  hoped  that  she  might  honour  me  by  be- 
coming my  wife.  That  seemed  to  make  the  mat- 
ter no  better,  so  then  I  lost  my  temper  too,  and  I 
answered  him  rather  more  hotly  than  I  should  per- 
haps, considering  that  she  was  standing  by.  So  it 
ended  by  his  going  off  with  her,  as  you  saw,  and 
here  am  I  as  badly  puzzled  a  man  as  any  in  this 
county.  Just  tell  me  what  it  all  means,  Watson, 
and  ril  owe  you  more  than  ever  I  can  hope  to  pay." 

I  tried  one  or  two  explanations,  but,  indeed,  I 
was  completely  puzzled  myself.  Our  friend's  title, 
his  fortune,  his  age,  his  character,  and  his  appear- 
ance are  all  in  his  favour,  and  I  know  nothing 
against  him,  unless  it  be  this  dark  fate  which  runs 
in  his  family.  That  his  advances  should  be  rejected 
so  brusquely  without  any  reference  to  the  lady's 
own  wishes,  and  that  the  lady  should  accept  the 
situation  without  protest  is  very  amazing.  How- 
ever, our  conjectures  were  set  at  rest  by  a  visit  from 
Stapleton  himself  that  very  afternoon.  He  had 
come  to  ofifer  apologies  for  his  rudeness  of  the 
morning,  and  after  a  long  private  interview  with  Sir 
Henry  in  his  study,  the  upshot  of  their  conversation 
was  that  the  breach  is  quite  healed,  and  that  we  are 

130 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 


to  dine  at  Merripit  House  next  Friday  as  a  sign 
of  it. 

I  don't  say  now  that  he  isn't  a  crazy  man,"  said 
Sir  Henry; I  can't  forget  the  look  in  hi^  eyes  when 
he  ran  at  me  this  morning,  but  I  must  allow  that 
no  man  could  make  a  more  handsome  apology  than 
he  has  done." 

"  Did  he  give  any  explanation  of  his  conduct?  " 

"  His  sister  is  everything  in  his  Hfe,  he  says. 
That  is  natural  enough,  and  I  am  glad  that  he 
should  understand  her  value.  They  have  always 
been  together,  and  according  to  his  account  he  has 
been  a  very  lonely  man  with  only  her  as  a  com- 
panion, so  that  the  thought  of  losing  her  was  really 
terrible  to  him.  He  had  not  understood,  he  said, 
that  I  was  becoming  attached  to  her,  but  when  he 
saw  with  his  own  eyes  that  it  was  really  so,  and  that 
she  might  be  taken  away  from  him,  it  gave  him 
such  a  shock  that  for  a  time  he  was  not  responsible 
for  what  he  said  or  did.  He  was  very  sorry  for  all 
that  had  passed,  and  he  recognised  how  foolish  and 
how  selfish  it  was  that  he  should  imagine  that  he 
could  hold  a  beautiful  woman  like  his  sister  to  him- 
self for  her  whole  life.  If  she  had  to  leave  him  he 
had  rather  it  was  to  a  neighbour  like  myself  than  to 
anyone  else.  But  in  any  case  it  was  a  blow  to  him, 
and  it  would  take  him  some  time  before  he  could 
prepare  himself  to  meet  it.  He  would  withdraw  all 
opposition  upon  his  part  if  I  would  promise  for 
three  months  to  let  the  matter  rest  and  to  be  con- 

131 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


tent  with  cultivating  the  lady's  friendship  during 
that  time  without  claiming  her  love.  This  I  prom- 
ised, and  so  the  matter  rests." 

So  there  is  one  of  our  small  mysteries  cleared  up. 
It  is  something  to  have  touched  bottom  anywhere 
in  this  bog  in  which  we  are  floundering.  We  know 
now  why  Stapleton  looked  with  disfavour  upon  his 
sister's  suitor — even  when  that  suitor  was  so  eli- 
gible a  one  as  Sir  Henry.  And  now  I  pass  on  to 
another  thread  which  I  have  extricated  out  of  the 
tangled  skein,  the  mystery  of  the  sobs  in  the  night, 
of  the  tear-stained  face  of  Mrs.  Barrymore,  of  the 
secret  journey  of  the  butler  to  the  western  lattice 
window.  Congratulate  me,  my  dear  Holmes,  and 
tell  me  that  I  have  not  disappointed  you  as  an  agent 
— that  you  do  not  regret  the  confidence  which  you 
showed  in  me  when  you  sent  me  down.  All  these 
things  have  by  one  night's  work  been  thoroughly 
cleared. 

I  have  said  "  by  one  night's  work,"  but,  in  truth, 
it  was  by  two  nights'  work,  for  on  the  first  we  drew 
ertirely  blank.  I  sat  up  with  Sir  Henry  in  his  room 
until  nearly  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  no 
sound  of  any  sort  did  we  hear  except  the  chiming 
clock  upon  the  stairs.  It  was  a  most  melancholy 
vigil,  and  ended  by  each  of  us  falling  asleep  in  our 
chairs.  Fortunately  we  were  not  discouraged,  and 
we  determined  to  try  again.  The  next  night  we 
lowered  the  lamp,  and  sat  smoking  cigarettes,  with- 
out making  the  least  sound.    It  was  incredible  how 

132 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 


slowly  the  hours  crawled  by,  and  yet  we  were  helped 
through  it  by  the  same  sort  of  patient  interest  which 
the  hunter  must  feel  as  he  watches  the  trap  into 
which  he  hopes  the  game  may  wander.  One 
struck,  and  two,  and  we  had  almost  for  the  sec- 
ond time  given  it  up  in  despair,  when  in  an  in- 
stant we  both  sat  bolt  upright  in  our  chairs,  with 
all  our  weary  senses  keenly  on  the  alert  once 
more.  We  had  heard  the  creak  of  a  step  in  the 
passage. 

Very  stealthily  we  heard  it  pass  along  until  it  died 
away  in  the  distance.  Then  the  baronet  gently 
opened  his  door  and  we  set  out  in  pursuit.  Already 
our  man  had  gone  round  the  gallery,  and  the  cor- 
ridor was  all  in  darkness.  Softly  we  stole  along 
until  we  had  come  into  the  other  wing.  We  were 
just  in  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  tall,  black- 
bearded  figure,  his  shoulders  rounded,  as  he  tip-toed 
down  the  passage.  Then  he  passed  through  the 
same  door  as  before,  and  the  light  of  the  candle 
framed  it  in  the  darkness  and  shot  one  single  yellow 
beam  across  the  gloom  of  the  corridor.  We  shuf- 
fled cautiously  towards  it,  trying  every  plank  before 
we  dared  to  put  our  whole  weight  upon  it.  We 
had  taken  the  precaution  of  leaving  our  boots  be- 
hind us,  but,  even  so,  the  old  boards  snapped  and 
creaked  beneath  our  tread.  Sometimes  it  seemed 
impossible  that  he  should  fail  to  hear  our  approach. 
However,  the  man  is  fortunately  rather  deaf,  and 
he  was  entirely  preoccupied  in  that  which  he  was 

133 


THE   HOUND   OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

doing.  When  at  last  we  reached  the  door  and 
peeped  through  we  found  him  crouching  at  the  win- 
dow, candle  in  hand,  his  white,  intent  face  pressed 
against  the  pane,  exactly  as  I  had  seen  him  two 
nights  before. 

We  had  arranged  no  plan  of  campaign,  but  the 
baronet  is  a  man  to  whom  the  most  direct  way  is 
always  the  most  natural.  He  walked  into  the 
room,  and  as  he  did  so  Barrymore  sprang  up  from 
the  window  with  a  sharp  hiss  of  his  breath,  and 
stood,  livid  and  trembling,  before  us.  His  dark 
eyes,  glaring  out  of  the  white  mask  of  his  face,  were 
full  of  horror  and  astonishment  as  he  gazed  from 
Sir  Henry  to  me. 

What  are  you  doing  here,  Barrymore?  "  . 

"  Nothing,  sir.''  His  agitation  was  so  great  that 
he  could  hardly  speak,  and  the  shadows  sprang  up 
and  down  from  the  shaking  of  his  candle.  It  was 
the  window,  sir.  I  go  round  at  night  to  see  that 
they  are  fastened.'' 

"  On  the  second  floor?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  all  the  windows.*' 
Look  here,  Barrymore,"  said  Sir  Henry,  stern- 
ly; "  we  have  made  up  our  minds  to  have  the  truth 
out  of  you,  so  it  will  save  you  trouble  to  tell  it 
sooner  rather  than  later.  Come,  now!  No  lies! 
What  were  you  doing  at  that  window?  " 

The  fellow  looked  at  us  in  a  helpless  way,  and  he 
wrung  his  hands  together  like  one  who  is  in  the  last 
extremity  of  doubt  and  misery. 

134 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 


"  I  was  doing  no  harm,  sir.  I  was  holding  a 
candle  to  the  window." 

And  why  were  you  holding  a  candle  to  the  win- 
dow?" 

Don't  ask  me,  Sir  Henry — don't  ask  me!  I 
give  you  my  word,  sir,  that  it  is  n6t  my  secret,  and 
that  I  cannot  tell  it.  If  it  concerned  no  one  but 
myself  I  would  not  try  to  keep  it  from  you." 

A  sudden  idea  occurred  to  me,  and  I  took  the 
candle  from  the  trembling  hand  of  the  butler. 

He  must  have  been  holding  it  as  a  signal,"  said 
I.  "  Let  us  see  if  there  is  any  answer."  I  held  it 
as  he  had  done,  and  stared  out  into  the  darkness  of 
the  night.  Vaguely  I  could  discern  the  black  bank 
of  the  trees  and  the  lighter  expanse  of  the  moor, 
for  the  moon  was  behind  the  clouds.  And  then  I 
gave  a  cry  of  exultation,  for  a  tiny  pin-point  of  yel- 
low light  had  suddenly  transfixed  the  dark  veil,  and 
glowed  steadily  in  the  centre  of  the  black  square 
framed  by  the  window. 
"  There  it  is !  "  I  cried. 

No,  no,  sir,  it  is  nothing — nothing  at  all!  "  the 
butler  broke  in;  ''I  assure  you,  sir—  " 

Move  your  light  across  the  window,  Watson !  " 
cried  the  baronet.  See,  the  other  moves  also! 
Now,  you  rascal,  do  you  deny  that  it  is  a  signal? 
Come,  speak  up!  Who  is  your  confederate  out 
yonder,  and  what  is  this  conspiracy  that  is  going 
on?" 

The  man's  face  became  openly  defiant. 

135 


THE   HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


"  It  is  my  business,  and  not  yours.  I  will  not 
tell." 

"  Then  you  leave  my  employment  right  away." 
"  Very  good,  sir.  If  I  must  I  must.'' 
"  And  you  go  in  disgrace.  By  thunder,  you  may 
well  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  Your  family  has  lived 
with  mine  for  over  a  hundred  years  under  this  roof, 
and  here  I  find  you  deep  in  some  dark  plot  against 
me. 

"No,  no,  sir;  no,  not  against  you!''  It  was  a 
woman's  voice,  and  Mrs.  Barrymore,  paler  and 
more  horrorstruck  than  her  husband,  was  standing 
at  the  door.  Her  bulky  figure  in  a  shawl  and  skirt 
might  have  been  comic  were  it  not  for  the  intensity 
of  feeling  upon  her  face. 

We  have  to  go,  Eliza.  This  is  the  end  of  it. 
You  can  pack  our  things,"  said  the  butler. 

Oh,  John,  John,  have  I  brought  you  to  this? 
It  is  my  doing.  Sir  Henry — all  mine.  He  has  done 
nothing  except  for  my  sake,  and  because  I  asked 
him." 

Speak  out,  then!  What  does  it  mean?  " 
My  unhappy  brother  is  starving  on  the  moor. 
We  cannot  let  him  perish  at  our  very  gates.  The 
light  is  a  signal  to  him  that  food  is  ready  for  him, 
and  his  light  out  yonder  is  to  show  the  spot  to  which 
to  bring  it." 

"  Then  your  brother  is  " 

"  The  escaped  convict,  sir — Selden,  the  criminal." 
"  That's  the  truth,  sir,"  said  Barrymore.    "  I  said 

136 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 


that  it  was  not  my  secret  and  that  I  could  not  tell 
it  to  you.  But  now  you  have  heard  it,  and  you  will 
see  that  if  there  was  a  plot  it  was  not  against  you." 

This,  then,  was  the  explanation  of  the  stealthy 
expeditions  at  night  and  the  light  at  the  window. 
Sir  Henry  and  I  both  stared  at  the  woman  in  amaze- 
ment. Was  it  possible  that  this  stolidly  respectable 
person  was  of  the  same  blood  as  one  of  the  most 
notorious  criminals  in  the  country? 

"  Yes,  sir,  my  name  was  Selden,  and  he  is  my 
younger  brother.  We  humoured  him  too  much 
when  he  was  a  lad,  and  gave  him  his  own  way  in 
everything  until  he  came  to  think  that  the  world 
was  made  for  his  pleasure,  and  that  he  could  do 
what  he  liked  in  it.  Then,  as  he  grew  older,  he  met 
wicked  companions,  and  the  devil  entered  into  him 
until  he  broke  my  mother's  heart  and  dragged  our 
name  in  the  dirt.  From  crime  to  crime  he  sank 
lower  and  lower,  until  it  is  only  the  mercy  of  God 
which  has  snatched  him  from  the  scaffold;  but  to 
me,  sir,  he  was  always  the  little  curly-headed  boy 
that  I  had  nursed  and  played  with,  as  an  elder  sister 
would.  That  was  why  he  broke  prison,  sir.  He 
knew  that  I  was  here  and  that  we  could  not  refuse 
to  help  him.  When  he  dragged  himself  here  one 
night,  weary  and  starving,  with  the  warders  hard 
at  his  heels,  what  could  we  do?  We  took  him  in 
and  fed  him  and  cared  for  him.  Then  you  returned, 
sir,  and  my  brother  thought  he  would  be  safer  on 
the  moor  than  anywhere  else  until  the  hue  and  cry 

137 


THE   HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


was  over,  so  he  lay  in  hiding  there.  But  every  sec- 
ond night  we  made  sure  if  he  was  still  there  by  put- 
ting a  light  in  the  window,  and  if  there  was  an 
answer  my  husband  took  out  some  bread  and  meat 
to  him.  Every  day  we  hoped  that  he  was  gone, 
but  as  long  as  he  was  there  we  could  not  desert  him. 
That  is  the  whole  truth,  as  I  am  an  honest  Christian 
woman,  and  you  will  see  that  if  there  is  blame  in 
the  matter  it  does  not  lie  with  my  husband,  but 
with  me,  for  whose  sake  he  has  done  all  that  he 
has.'' 

The  woman's  words  came  with  an  intense  ear- 
nestness which  carried  conviction  with  them. 
Is  this  true,  Barrymore?  " 

"  Yes,  Sir  Henry.    Every  word  of  it." 

"  Well,  I  cannot  blame  you  for  standing  by  your 
own  wife.  Forget  what  I  have  said.  Go  to  your 
room,  you  two,  and  we  shall  talk  further  about  this 
matter  in  the  morning." 

When  they  were  gone  we  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow again.  Sir  Henry  had  flung  it  open,  and  the 
cold  night  wind  beat  in  upon  our  faces.  Far  away 
in  the  black  distance  there  still  glowed  that  one  tiny 
point  of  yellow  light. 

"  I  wonder  he  dares,"  said  Sir  Henry. 

"  It  may  be  so  placed  as  to  be  only  visible  from 
here." 

"  Very  likely.    How  far  do  you  think  it  is?  " 

Out  by  the  Cleft  Tor,  I  think." 
"  Not  more  than  a  mile  or  two  off." 

138 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 


"  Hardly  that." 

"  Well,  it  cannot  be  far  if  Barrymore  had  to  carry 
out  the  food  to  it.  And  he  is  waiting,  this  villain, 
beside  that  candle.  By  thunder,  Watson,  I  am  go- 
ing out  to  take  that  man! " 

The  same  thought  had  crossed  my  own  mind.  It 
was  not  as  if  the  Barrymores  had  taken  us  into  their 
confidence.  Their  secret  had  been  forced  from 
them.  The  man  was  a  danger  to  the  community, 
an  unmitigated  scoundrel  for  whom  there  was  nei- 
ther pity  nor  excuse.  We  were  only  doing  our 
duty  in  taking  this  chance  of  putting  him  back 
where  he  could  do  no  harm.  With  his  brutal  and 
violent  nature,  others  would  have  to  pay  the  price 
if  we  held  our  hands.  Any  night,  for  example,  our 
neighbours  the  Stapletons  might  be  attacked  by 
him,  and  it  may  have  been  the  thought  of  this  which 
made  Sir  Henry  so  keen  upon  the  adventure. 

"  I  will  come,''  said  1. 

"  Then  get  your  revolver  and  put  on  your  boots. 
The  sooner  we  start  the  better,  as  the  fellow  may 
put  out  his  light  and  be  off." 

In  five  minutes  we  were  outside  the  door,  start- 
ing upon  our  expedition.  We  hurried  through  the 
dark  shrubbery,  amid  the  dull  moaning  of  the 
autumn  wind  and  the  rustle  of  the  falling  leaves. 
The  night  air  was  heavy  with  the  smell  of  damp  and 
decay.  Now  and  again  the  moon  peeped  out  for 
an  instant,  but  clouds  were  driving  over  the  face 
of  the  sky,  and  just  as  we  came  out  on  the  moor  a 

139 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

thin  rain  began  to  fall.  The  light  still  burned 
steadily  in  front. 

Are  you  armed?  "  I  asked. 

I  have  a  hunting-crop.'' 

We  must  close  in  on  him  rapidly,  for  he  is  said 
to  be  a  desperate  fellow.  We  shall  take  him  by  sur- 
prise and  have  him  at  our  mercy  before  he  can 
resist.'' 

"  I  say,  Watson,"  said  the  baronet,  "  what  would 
Holmes  say  to  this?  How  about  that  hour  of  dark- 
ness in  which  the  power  of  evil  is  exalted?  " 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  words  there  rose  suddenly 
out  of  the  vast  gloom  of  the  moor  that  strange  cry 
which  I  had  already  heard  upon  the  borders  of  the 
great  Grimpen  Mire.  It  came  with  the  wind 
through  the  silence  of  the  night,  a  long,  deep  mut- 
ter, then  a  rising  howl,  and  then  the  sad  moan  in 
which  it  died  away.  Again  and  again  it  sounded, 
the  whole  air  throbbing  with  it,  strident,  wild,  and 
menacing.  The  baronet  caught  my  sleeve  and  his 
face  glimmered  white  through  the  darkness. 

"  My  God,  what's  that,  Watson?  " 
I  don't  know.    It's  a  sound  they  have  on  the 
moor.    I  heard  it  once  before." 

It  died  away,  and  an  absolute  silence  closed  in 
upon  us.  We  stood  straining  our  ears,  but  nothing 
came. 

Watson,"  said  the  baronet,  "  it  was  the  cry  of 
a  hound." 

My  blood  ran  cold  in  my  veins,  for  there  was  a 

140 


f 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 

break  in  his  voice  which  told  of  the  sudden  horror 
which  had  seized  him. 

What  do  they  call  this  sound?  "  he  asked. 

Who?  " 

"  The  folk  on  the  country-side?  " 
"  Oh,  they  are  ignorant  people.    Why  should 
you  mind  what  they  call  it?  " 

Tell  me,  Watson.    What  do  they  say  of  it?  " 
I  hesitated,  but  could  not  escape  the  question. 
"  They  say  it  is  the  cry  of  the  Hound  of  the 
Baskervilles.'' 

He  groaned,  and  was  silent  for  a  few  moments. 
"  A  hound  it  was,"  he  said,  at  last,    but  it  seemed 
to  come  from  miles  away,  over  yonder,  I  think.'* 
It  was  hard  to  say  whence  it  came.'' 
It  rose  and  fell  with  the  wind.    Isn't  that  the 
direction  of  the  great  Grimpen  Mire?  " 
"  Yes,  it  is." 
Well,  it  was  up  there.     Come  now,  Watson, 
didn't  you  think  yourself  that  it  was  the  cry  of  a 
hound?    I  am  not  a  child.    You  need  not  fear  to 
speak  the  truth." 

Stapleton  was  with  me  when  I  heard  it  last. 
He  said  that  it  might  be  the  calling  of  a  strange 
bird." 

No,  no,  it  was  a  hound.    My  God,  can  there  be 
some  truth  in  all  these  stories?    Is  it  possible  that 
I  am  really  in  danger  from  so  dark  a  cause?  You 
don't  believe  it,  do  you,  Watson?  " 
"No,  no." 

141 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  And  yet  it  was  one  thing  to  laugh  about  it  in 
London,  and  it  is  another  to  stand  out  here  in  the 
darkness  of  the  moor  and  to  hear  such  a  cry  as  that. 
And  my  uncle!  There  was  the  footprint  of  the 
hound  beside  him  as  he  lay.  It  all  fits  together. 
I  don't  think  that  I  am  a  coward,  Watson,  but  that 
sound  seemed  to  freeze  my  very  blood.  Feel  my 
hand!" 

It  was  as  cold  as  a  block  of  marble. 
You'll  be  all  right  to-morrow." 

"  I  don't  think  Til  get  that  cry  out  of  my  head. 
What  do  you  advise  that  we  do  now?  " 
Shall  we  turn  back?  " 

"  No,  by  thunder;  we  have  come  out  to  get  our 
man,  and  we  will  do  it.  We  after  the  convict,  and 
a  hell-hound,  as  likely  as  not,  after  us.  Come  on! 
We'll  see  it  through  if  all  the  fiends  of  the  pit  were 
loose  upon  the  moor." 

We  stumbled  slowly  along  in  the  darkness,  with 
the  black  loom  of  the  craggy  hills  around  us,  and 
the  yellow  speck  of  light  burning  steadily  in  front. 
There  is  nothing  so  deceptive  as  the  distance  of  a 
light  upon  a  pitch-dark  night,  and  sometimes  the 
glimmer  seemed  to  be  far  away  upon  the  horizon 
and  sometimes  it  might  have  been  within  a  few 
yards  of  us.  But  at  last  we  could  see  whence  it 
came,  and  then  we  knew  that  we  were  indeed  very 
close.  A  guttering  candle  was  stuck  in  a  crevice  of 
the  rocks  which  flanked  it  on  each  side  so  as  to 
keep  the  wind  from  it,  and  also  to  prevent  it  from 

142 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 


being  visible,  save  in  the  direction  of  Baskerville 
Hall.  A  boulder  of  granite  concealed  our  ap- 
proach, and  crouching  behind  it  we  gazed  over  it 
at  the  signal  light.  It  was  strange  to  see  this  single 
candle  burning  there  in  the  middle  of  the  moor, 
with  no  sign  of  life  near  it — ^just  the  one  straight 
yellow  flame  and  the  gleam  of  the  rock  on  each  side 
of  it. 

"  What  shall  we  do  now?  "  whispered  Sir  Henry. 

"  Wait  here.  He  must  be  near  his  light.  Let 
us  see  if  we  can  get  a  glimpse  of  him.'' 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  my  mouth  when 
we  both  saw  him.  Over  the  rocks,  in  the  crevice 
of  which  the  candle  burned,  there  was  thrust  out  an 
evil  yellow  face,  a  terrible  animal  face,  all  seamed 
and  scored  with  vile  passions.  Foul  with  mire, 
with  a  bristling  beard,  and  hung  with  matted  hair, 
it  might  well  have  belonged  to  one  of  those  old 
savages  who  dwelt  in  the  burrows  on  the  hillsides. 
The  light  beneath  him  was  reflected  in  his  small, 
cunning  eyes  which  peered  fiercely  to  right  and  left 
through  the  darkness,  like  a  crafty  and  savage  ani- 
mal who  has  heard  the  steps  of  the  hunters. 

Something  had  evidently  aroused  his  suspicions. 
It  may  have  been  that  Barrymore  had  some  private 
signal  which  we  had  neglected  to  give,  or  the  fellow 
may  have  had  some  other  reason  for  thinking  that 
all  was  not  well,  but  I  could  read  his  fears  upon  his 
wicked  face.  Any  instant  he  might  dash  out  the 
light  and  vanish  in  the  darkness.    I  sprang  forward 

143 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

therefore,  and  Sir  Henry  did  the  same.  At  the 
same  moment  the  convict  screamed  out  a  curse  at 
us  and  hurled  a  rock  which  splintered  up  against 
the  boulder  which  had  sheltered  us.  I  caught  one 
glimpse  of  his  short,  squat,  strongly-built  figure  as 
he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  turned  to  run.  At  the 
same  moment  by  a  lucky  chance  the  moon  broke 
through  the  clouds.  We  rushed  over  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  and  there  was  our  man  running  with  great 
speed  down  the  other  side,  springing  over  the  stones 
in  his  way  with  the  activity  of  a  mountain  goat.  A 
lucky  long  shot  of  my  revolver  might  have  crippled 
him,  but  I  had  brought  it  only  to  defend  myself  if 
attacked,  and  not  to  shoot  an  unarmed  man  who 
was  running  away. 

We  were  both  swift  runners  and  in  fairly  good 
training,  but  we  soon  found  that  we  had  no  chance 
of  overtaking  him.  We  saw  him  for  a  long  time 
in  the  moonlight  until  he  was  only  a  small  speck 
moving  swiftly  among  the  boulders  upon  the  side 
of  a  distant  hill.  We  ran  and  ran  until  we  were 
completely  blown,  but  the  space  between  us  grew 
ever  wider.  Finally  we  stopped  and  sat  panting  on 
two  rocks,  while  we  watched  him  disappearing  in 
the  distance. 

And  it  was  at  this  moment  that  there  occurred  a 
most  strange  and  unexpected  thing.  We  had  risen 
from  our  rocks  and  were  turning  to  go  home,  hav- 
ing abandoned  the  hopeless  chase.  The  moon  was 
low  upon  the  right,  and  the  jagged  pinnacle  of  a 

144 


THE    LIGHT    UPON    THE  MOOR 

granite  tor  stood  up  against  the  lower  curve  of  its 
silver  disc.  There,  outlined  as  black  as  an  ebony 
statue  on  that  shining  back-ground,  I  saw  the  fig- 
ure of  a  man  upon  the  tor.  Do  not  think  that  it 
was  a  delusion,  Holmes.  I  assure  you  that  I  have 
never  in  my  life  seen  anything  more  clearly.  As 
far  as  I  could  judge,  the  figure  was  that  of  a  tall, 
thin  man.  He  stood  with  his  legs  a  little  separated, 
his  arms  folded,  his  head  bowed,  as  if  he  were  brood- 
ing over  that  enormous  wilderness  of  peat  and 
granite  which  lay  before  him.  He  might  have  been 
the  very  spirit  of  that  terrible  place.  It  was  not  the 
convict.  This  man  was  far  from  the  place  where 
the  latter  had  disappeared.  Besides,  he  was  a  much 
taller  man.  With  a  cry  of  surprise  I  pointed  him 
out  to  the  baronet,  but  in  the  instant  during  which 
I  had  turned  to  grasp  his  arm  the  man  was  gone. 
There  was  the  sharp  pinnacle  of  granite  still  cut- 
ting the  lower  edge  of  the  moon,  but  its  peak  bore 
no  trace  of  that  silent  and  motionless  figure. 

I  wished  to  go  in  that  direction  and  to  search  the 
tor,  but  it  was  some  distance  away.  The  baronet's 
nerves  were  still  quivering  from  that  cry,  which  re- 
called the  dark  story  of  his  family,  and  he  was  not 
in  the  mood  for  fresh  adventures.  He  had  not  seen 
this  lonely  man  upon  the  tor  and  could  not  feel  the 
thrill  which  his  strange  presence  and  his  command- 
ing attitude  had  given  to  me.  ''A  warder,  no 
doubt,"  said  he.  The  moor  has  been  thick  with 
them  since  this  fellow  escaped."    Well,  perhaps  his 

H5 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

explanation  may  be  the  right  one,  but  I  should  like 
to  have  some  further  proof  of  it.  To-day  we  mean 
to  communicate  to  the  Princetown  people  where 
they  should  look  for  their  missing  man,  but  it  is 
hard  lines  that  we  have  not  actually  had  the  tri- 
umph of  bringing  him  back  as  our  own  prisoner. 
Such  are  the  adventures  of  last  night,  and  you  must 
acknowledge,  my  dear  Holmes,  that  I  have  done 
you  very  well  in  the  matter  of  a  report.  Much  of 
what  I  tell  you  is  no  doubt  quite  irrelevant,  but  still 
I  feel  that  it  is  best  that  I  should  let  you  have  all 
the  facts  and  leave  you  to  select  for  yourself  those 
which  will  be  of  most  service  to  you  in  helping  you 
to  your  conclusions.  We  are  certainly  making 
some  progress.  So  far  as  the  Barrymores  go  we 
have  found  the  motive  of  their  actions,  and  that  has 
cleared  up  the  situation  very  much.  But  the  moor 
with  its  mysteries  and  its  strange  inhabitants  re- 
mains as  inscrutable  as  ever.  Perhaps  in  my  next 
I  may  be  able  to  throw  some  light  upon  this  also. 
Best  of  all  would  it  be  if  you  could  come  down  to 
us.  In  any  case  you  will  hear  from  me  again  in 
the  course  of  the  next  few  days. 


146 


X 


Extract  from  the  Diary  of  Dr.  Watson 

SO  far  I  have  been  able  to  quote  from  the  re- 
ports which  I  have  forwarded  during  these 
early  days  to  Sherlock  Holmes.  Now,  how- 
ever, I  have  arrived  at  a  point  in  my  narrative  where 
I  am  compelled  to  abandon  this  method  and  to 
trust  once  more  to  my  recollections,  aided  by  the 
diary  which  I  kept  at  the  time.  A  few  extracts 
from  the  latter  will  carry  me  on  to  those  scenes 
which  are  indelibly  fixed  in  every  detail  upon  my 
memory.  I  proceed,  then,  from  the  morning  which 
followed  our  abortive  chase  of  the  convict  and  our 
other  strange  experiences  upon  the  moor. 

October  i6th. — A  dull  and  foggy  day  with  a  driz- 
zle of  rain.  The  house  is  banked  in  with  rolling 
clouds,  which  rise  now  and  then  to  show  the  dreary 
curves  of  the  moor,  with  thin,  silver  veins  upon  the 
sides  of  the  hills,  and  the  distant  boulders  gleaming 
where  the  light  strikes  upon  their  wet  faces.  It  is 
melancholy  outside  and  in.  The  baronet  is  in  a 
black  reaction  after  the  excitements  of  the  night. 
I  am  conscious  myself  of  a  weight  at  my  heart  and 
a  feeling  of  impending  danger — ever  present  dan- 
ger, which  is  the  more  terrible  because  I  am  unable 
to  define  it. 

147 


THE    HOUND    OF   T  H  E   B  A  S  K  E  R  V  I  L  L  E  S 

And  have  I  not  cause  for  such  a  feeling?  Con- 
sider the  long  sequence  of  incidents  which  have  all 
pointed  to  some  sinister  influence  which  is  at  work 
around  us.  There  is  the  death  of  the  last  occupant 
of  the  Hall,  fulfilling  so  exactly  the  conditions  of  the 
family  legend,  and  there  are  the  repeated  reports 
from  peasants  of  the  appearance  of  a  strange  creat- 
ure upon  the  moor.  Twice  I  have  with  my  own 
ears  heard  the  sound  which  resembled  the  distant 
baying  of  a  hound.  It  is  incredible,  impossible, 
that  it  should  really  be  outside  the  ordinary  laws  of 
nature.  A  spectral  hound  which  leaves  material 
footmarks  and  fills  the  air  with  its  howling  is  surely 
not  to  be  thought  of.  Stapleton  may  fall  in  with 
such  a  superstition,  and  Mortimer  also;  but  if  I 
have  one  quality  upon  earth  it  is  common-sense, 
and  nothing  will  persuade  me  to  believe  in  such  a 
thing.  To  do  so  would  be  to  descend  to  the  level 
of  these  poor  peasants,  who  are  not  content  with  a 
mere  fiend  dog,  but  must  needs  describe  him  with 
hell-fire  shooting  from  his  mouth  and  eyes. 
Holmes  would  not  listen  to  such  fancies,  and  I  am 
his  agent.  But  facts  are  facts,  and  I  have  twice 
heard  this  crying  upon  the  moor.  Suppose  that 
there  were  really  some  huge  hound  loose  upon  it; 
that  would  go  far  to  explain  everything.  But 
where  could  such  a  hound  lie  concealed,  where  did 
it  get  its  food,  where  did  it  come  from,  how  was  it 
that  no  one  saw  it  by  day?  It  must  be  confessed 
that  the  natural  explanation  oflfers  almost  as  many 

•  148 


His  face  seemed  to  be  rigi'd  with  expectation  2^  he 
stared  out  into  the  blackness  of  the  moor. 


J 


THE    DIARY    OF    DR.  WATSON 

difficulties  as  the  other.  And  always,  apart  from 
the  hound,  there  is  the  fact  of  the  human  agency 
in  London,  the  man  in  the  cab,  and  the  letter  which 
warned  Sir  Henry  against  the  moor.  This  at  least 
was  real,  but  it  might  have  been  the  work  of  a  pro- 
tecting friend  as  easily  as  of  an  enemy.  Where  is 
that  friend  or  enemy  now?  Has  he  remained  in 
London,  or  has  he  followed  us  down  here?  Could 
he — could  he  be  the  stranger  whom  I  saw  upon 

the  Tor? 

It  is  true  that  I  have  had  only  the  one  glance  at 
him,  and  yet  there  are  some  things  to  which  I  am 
ready  to  swear.  He  is  no  one  whom  I  have  seen 
down  here,  and  I  have  now  met  all  the  neighbours. 
The  figure  was  far  taller  than  that  of  Stapleton,  far 
thinner  than  that  of  Frankland.  Barrymore  it 
might  possibly  have  been,  but  we  had  left  him  be- 
hind us,  and  I  am  certain  that  he  could  not  have 
followed  us.  A  stranger  then  is  still  dogging  us, 
just  as  a  stranger  dogged  us  in  London.  We 
have  never  shaken  him  off.  If  I  could  lay  my 
hands  upon  that  man,  then  at  last  we  might 
find  ourselves  at  the  end  of  all  our  difficulties. 
To  this  one  purpose  I  must  now  devote  all  my 
energies. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  tell  Sir  Henry  all  my 
plans.  My  second  and  wisest  one  is  to  play  my 
own  game  and  speak  as  little  as  possible  to  anyone. 
He  is  silent  and  distrait.  His  nerves  have  been 
strangely  shaken  by  that  sound  upon  the  moor.  I 

149 


THE   HOUND    OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

will  say  nothing  to  add  to  his  anxieties,  but  I  will 
take  my  own  steps  to  attain  my  own  end. 

We  had  a  small  scene  this  morning  after  break- 
fast. Barrymore  asked  leave  to  speak  with  Sir 
Henry,  and  they  were  closeted  in  his  study  some 
little  time.  Sitting  in  the  billiard-room  I  more  than 
once  heard  the  sound  of  voices  raised,  and  I  had  a 
pretty  good  idea  what  the  point  was  which  was  un- 
der discussion.  After  a  time  the  baronet  opened 
his  door  and  called  for  me. 

"  Barrymore  considers  that  he  has  a  grievance," 
he  said.  "  He  thinks  that  it  was  unfair  on  our  part 
to  hunt  his  brother-in-law  down  when  he,  of  his  own 
free  will,  had  told  us  the  secret.'' 

The  butler  was  standing  very  pale  but  very  col- 
lected before  us. 

I  may  have  spoken  too  warmly,  sir,"  said  he, 
"  and  if  I  have  I  am  sure  that  I  beg  your  pardon. 
At  the  same  time,  I  was  very  much  surprised  when 
I  heard  you  two  gentlemen  come  back  this  morn- 
ing and  learned  that  you  had  been  chasing  Selden. 
The  poor  fellow  has  enough  to  fight  against  without 
my  putting  more  upon  his  track." 

"  If  you  had  told  us  of  your  own  free  will  it  would 
have  been  a  different  thing,"  said  the  baronet,  "  you 
only  told  us,  or  rather  your  wife  only  told  us,  when 
it  was  forced  from  you  and  you  could  not  help  your- 
self." 

"  I  didn't  think  you  would  have  taken  advantage 
of  it,  Sir  Henry — indeed  I  didn't." 

ISO 


THE    DIARY    OF    DR.  WATSON 

"  The  man  is  a  public  danger.  There  are  lonely 
houses  scattered  over  the  moor,  and  he  is  a  fellow 
who  would  stick  at  nothing.  You  only  want  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  his  face  to  see  that.  Look  at  Mr.  Sta- 
pleton's  house,  for  example,  with  no  one  but  himself 
to  defend  it.  There's  no  safety  for  anyone  until  he 
is  under  lock  and  key.'' 

"  He'll  break  into  no  house,  sir.  I  give  you  my 
solemn  word  upon  that.  But  he  will  never  trouble 
anyone  in  this  country  again.  I  assure  you.  Sir 
Henry,  that  in  a  very  few  days  the  necessary  ar- 
rangements will  have  been  made  and  he  will  be  on 
his  way  to  South  America.  For  God's  sake,  sir,  I 
beg  of  you  not  to  let  the  police  know  that  he  is  still 
on  the  moor.  They  have  given  up  the  chase  there, 
and  he  can  lie  quiet  until  the  ship  is  ready  for  him. 
You  can't  tell  on  him  without  getting  my  wife  and 
me  into  trouble.  I  beg  you,  sir,  to  say  nothing  to 
the  police." 

''What  do  you  say,  Watson?" 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  If  he  were  safely  out 
of  the  country  it  would  relieve  the  tax-payer  of  a 
burden." 

"  But  how  about  the  chance  of  his  holding  some- 
one up  before  he  goes?  " 

"  He  would  not  do  anything  so  mad,  sir.  We 
have  provided  him  with  all  that  he  can  want.  To 
commit  a  crime  would  be  to  show  where  he  was 
hiding." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Sir  Henry.  "  Well,  Barry- 
more  


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


God  bless  you,  sir,  and  thank  you  from  my 
heart!  It  would  have  killed  my  poor  wife  had  he 
been  taken  again.'* 

"  I  guess  we  are  aiding  and  abetting  a  felony, 
Watson?  But,  after  what  we  have  heard,  I  don't 
feel  as  if  I  could  give  the  man  up,  so  there  is  an 
end  of  it.   All  right,  Barrymore,  you  can  go." 

With  a  few  broken  words  of  gratitude  the  man 
turned,  but  he  hesitated  and  then  came  back. 

You've  been  so  kind  to  us,  sir,  that  I  should 
like  to  do  the  best  I  can  for  you  in  return.  I  know 
something.  Sir  Henry,  and  perhaps  I  should  have 
said  it  before,  but  it  was  long  after  the  inquest  that 
I  found  it  out.  I've  never  breathed  a  word  about 
it  yet  to  mortal  man.  It's  about  poor  Sir  Charles's 
death." 

The  baronet  and  I  were  both  upon  our  feet. 
Do  you  know  how  he  died?  " 

No,  sir,  I  don't  know  that." 
"  What  then?" 

"  I  know  why  he  was  at  the  gate  at  that  hour. 
It  was  to  meet  a  woman." 
"  To  meet  a  woman!    He?  " 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  the  woman's  name?  " 
"  I  can't  give  you  the  name,  sir,  but  I  can  give 
you  the  initials.    Her  initials  were  L.  L." 
How  do  you  know  this,  Barrymore?  " 
"  Well,  Sir  Henry,  your  uncle  had  a  letter  that 
morning.    He  had  usually  a  great  many  letters,  for 

152 


THE    DIARY    OF    DR.  WATSON 


he  was  a  public  man  and  well  known  for  his  kind 
heart,  so  that  everyone  who  was  in  trouble  was 
glad  to  turn  to  him.  But  that  morning,  as  it 
chanced,  there  was  only  this  on-e  letter,  so  I  took 
the  more  notice  of  it.  It  was  from  Coombe  Tracey, 
and  it  was  addressed  in  a  woman's  hand." 
"  Well?" 

"  Well,  sir,  I  thought  no  more  of  the  matter,  and 
never  would  have  done  had  it  not  been  for  my  wife. 
Only  a  few  weeks  ago  she  was  cleaning  out  Sir 
Charles's  study — it  had  never  been  touched  since  his 
death — and  she  found  the  ashes  of  a  burned  letter 
in  the  back  of  the  grate.  The  greater  part  of  it  was 
charred  to  pieces,  but  one  little  slip,  the  end  of  a 
page,  hung  together,  and  the  writing  could  still  be 
read,  though  it  was  grey  on  a  black  ground.  It 
seemed  to  us  to  be  a  postscript  at  the  end  of  the  let- 
ter, and  it  said :  '  Please,  please,  as  you  are  a  gentle- 
man, burn  this  letter,  and  be  at  the  gate  by  ten 
o'clock.'    Beneath  it  were  signed  the  initials  L.  L." 

"  Have  you  got  that  slip?  " 

"  No,  sir,  it  crumbled  all  to  bits  after  we  moved 
it." 

Had  Sir  Charles  received  any  other  letters  in 
the  same  writing?  " 

Well,  sir,  I  took  no  particular  notice  of  his  let- 
ters. I  should  not  have  noticed  this  one  only  it 
happened  to  come  alone." 

And  you  have  no  idea  who  L.  L.  is?  " 

No,  sir.    No  more  than  you  have.    But  I  ex- 

153 


THE   HOUND    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 


pect  if  we  could  lay  our  hands  upon  that  lady  we 
should  know  more  about  Sir  Charles's  death." 

"  I  cannot  understand,  Barrymore,  how  you  came 
to  conceal  this  important  information." 

"  Well,  sir,  it  was  immediately  after  that  our  own 
trouble  came  to  us.  And  then  again,  sir,  we  were 
both  of  us  very  fond  of  Sir  Charles,  as  we  well  might 
be  considering  all  that  he  has  done  for  us.  To  rake 
this  up  couldn't  help  our  poor  master,  and  it's  well 
to  go  carefully  when  there's  a  lady  in  the  case. 
Even  the  best  of  us  " 

"  You  thought  it  might  injure  his  reputation?  " 
Well,  sir,  I  thought  no  good  could  come  of  it. 
But  now  you  have  been  kind  to  us,  and  I  feel  as  if 
it  would  be  treating  you  unfairly  not  to  tell  you 
all  that  I  know  about  the  matter." 

Very  good,  Barrymore;  you  can  go."  When 
the  butler  had  left  us  Sir  Henry  turned  to  me. 
"  Well,  Watson,  what  do  you  think  of  this  new 
light?" 

"  It  seems  to  leave  the  darkness  rather  blacker 
thari  before." 

"  So  I  think.  But  if  we  can  only  trace  L.  L.  it 
should  clear  up  the  whole  business.  We  have 
gained  that  much.  We  know  that  there  is  some- 
one who  has  the  facts  if  we  can  only  find  her.  What 
do  you  think  we  should  do?  " 

Let  Holmes  know  all  about  it  at  once.  It  will 
give  him  the  clue  for  which  he  has  been  seeking. 
I  am  much  mistaken  if  it  does  not  bring  him  down." 

154 


THE    DIARY    OF    DR.  WATSON 


I  went  at  once  to  my  room  and  drew  up  my  re- 
port of  the  morning's  conversation  for  Holmes.  It 
was  evident  to  me  that  he  had  been  very  busy  of 
late,  for  the  notes  which  I  had  from  Baker  Street 
were  few  and  short,  with  no  comments  upon  the 
information  which  I  had  supplied,  and  hardly  any 
reference  to  my  mission.  No  doubt  his  blackmail- 
ing case  is  absorbing  all  his  faculties.  And  yet  this 
new  factor  must  surely  arrest  his  attention  and  re- 
new his  interest.    I  wish  that  he  were  here. 

October  17th. — All  day  to-day  the  rain  poured 
down,  rustling  on  the  ivy  and  dripping  from  the 
eaves.  I  thought  of  the  convict  out  upon  the 
bleak,  cold,  shelterless  moor.  Poor  devil!  What- 
ever his  crimes,  he  has  suffered  something  to  atone 
for  them.  And  then  I  thought  of  that  other  one 
— the  face  in  the  cab,  the  figure  against  the  moon. 
Was  he  also  out  in  that  deluge — the  unseen 
watcher,  the  man  of  darkness?  In  the  evening  I 
put  on  my  waterproof  and  I  walked  far  upon  the 
sodden  moor,  full  of  dark  imaginings,  the  rain  beat- 
ing upon  my  face  and  the  wind  whistling  about  my 
ears.  God  help  those  who  wander  into  the  great 
mire  now,  for  even  the  firm  uplands  are  becoming 
a  morass.  I  found  the  black  tor  upon  which  I 
had  seen  the  solitary  watcher,  and  from  its  craggy 
summit  I  looked  out  myself  across  the  melancholy 
downs.  Rain  squalls  drifted  across  their  russet 
face,  and  the  heavy,  slate-coloured  clouds  hung  low 
over  the  landscape,  trailing  in  grey  wreaths  down 

155 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

the  sides  of  the  fantastic  hills.  In  the  distant  hol- 
low on  the  left,  half  hidden  by  the  mist,  the  two 
thin  towers  of  Baskerville  Hall  rose  above  the  trees. 
They  were  the  only  signs  of  human  life  which  I 
could  see,  save  only  those  prehistoric  huts  which 
lay  thickly  upon  the  slopes  of  the  hills.  Nowhere 
was  there  any  trace  of  that  lonely  man  whom  I  had 
seen  on  the  same  spot  two  nights  before. 

As  I  walked  back  I  was  overtaken  by  Dr.  Morti- 
mer driving  in  his  dog-cart  over  a  rough  moorland 
track,  which  led  from  the  outlying  farmhouse  of 
Foulmire.  He  has  been  very  attentive  to  us,  and 
hardly  a  day  has  passed  that  he  has  not  called  at  the 
Hall  to  see  how  we  were  getting  on.  He  insisted 
upon  my  climbing  into  his  dog-cart  and  he  gave 
me  a  lift  homewards.  I  found  him  much  troubled 
over  the  disappearance  of  his  little  spaniel.  It  had 
wandered  on  to  the  moor  and  had  never  come  back. 
I  gave  him  such  consolation  as  I  might,  but  I 
thought  of  the  pony  on  the  Grimpen  Mire,  and  I 
do  not  fancy  that  he  will  see  his  little  dog  again. 

By  the  way,  Mortimer,''  said  I,  as  we  jolted 
along  the  rough  road,  I  suppose  there  are  few 
people  living  within  driving  distance  of  this  whom 
you  do  not  know? 

"  Hardly  any,  I  think.'' 

Can  you,  then,  tell  me  the  name  of  any  woman 
whose  initials  are  L.  L.?" 
He  thought  for  a  few  minutes. 

No,"  said  he.      There  are  a  few  gipsies  and 

156 


THE    DIARY    OF    DR.  WATSON 


labouring  folk  for  whom  I  can't  answer,  but  among 
the  farmers  or  gentry  there  is  no  one  whose  initials 
are  those.  Wait  a  bit  though,"  he  added,  after  a 
pause.  There  is  Laura  Lyons — her  initials  are 
L.  L. — but  she  lives  in  Coombe  Tracey." 

"Who  is  she?"  I  asked. 
She  is  Frankland's  daughter." 

"  What!    Old  Frankland  the  crank?  " 

"  Exactly.  She  married  an  artist  named  Lyons, 
who  came  sketching  on  the  moor.  He  proved  to 
be  a  blackguard  and  deserted  her.  The  fault  from 
what  I  hear  may  not  have  been  entirely  on  one  side. 
Her  father  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  her, 
because  she  had  married  without  his  consent,  and 
perhaps  for  one  or  two  other  reasons  as  well.  So, 
between  the  old  sinner  and  the  young  one  the  girl 
has  had  a  pretty  bad  time." 
How  does  she  live?  " 

"  I  fancy  old  Frankland  allows  her  a  pittance,  but 
it  cannot  be  more,  for  his  own  affairs  are  consider- 
ably involved.  Whatever  she  may  have  deserved 
one  could  not  allow  her  to  go  hopelessly  to  the  bad. 
Her  story  got  about,  and  several  of  the  people  here 
did  something  to  enable  her  to  earn  an  honest  liv- 
ing. Stapleton  did  for  one,  and  Sir  Charles  for 
another.  I  gave  a  trifle  myself.  It  was  to  set  her 
up  in  a  typewriting  business." 

He  wanted  to  know  the  object  of  my  inquiries, 
but  I  managed  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  without  tell- 
ing him  too  much,  for  there  is  no  reason  why  we 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

should  take  anyone  into  our  confidence.  To-mor- 
row morning  I  shall  find  my  way  to  Coombe  Tracey, 
and  if  I  can  see  this  Mrs.  Laura  Lyons,  of  equivocal 
reputation,  a  long  step  will  have  been  made  towards 
clearing  one  incident  in  this  chain  of  mysteries.  I 
am  certainly  developing  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent, 
for  when  Mortimer  pressed  his  questions  to  an  in- 
convenient extent  I  asked  him  casually  to  what  type 
Frankland's  skull  belonged,  and  so  heard  nothing 
but  craniology  for  the  rest  of  our  drive.  I  have 
not  lived  for  years  with  Sherlock  Holmes  for 
nothing. 

I  have  only  one  other  incident  to  record  upon  this 
tempestuous  and  melancholy  day.  This  was  my 
conversation  with  Barrymore  just  now,  which  gives 
me  one  more  strong  card  which  I  can  play  in  due 
time. 

Mortimer  had  stayed  to  dinner,  and  he  and  the 
baronet  played  ecarte  afterwards.  The  butler 
brought  me  my  cofifee  into  the  library,  and  I  took 
the  chance  to  ask  him  a  few  questions. 

"  Well,''  said  I,  has  this  precious  relation  of 
yours  departed,  or  is  he  still  lurking  out  yonder? 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  I  hope  to  Heaven  that  he 
has  gone,  for  he  has  brought  nothing  but  trouble 
here!  I've  not  heard  of  him  since  I  left  out  food 
for  him  last,  and  that  was  three  days  ago." 

"  Did  you  see  him  then?  " 

"  No,  sir,  but  the  food  was  gone  when  next  I 
went  that  way." 

158 


THE    DIARY    OF    DR.  WATSON 

"  Then  he  was  certainly  there? 
So  you  would  think,  sir,  unless  it  was  the  other 
man  who  took  it." 

I  sat  with  my  coffee-cup  half  way  to  my  lips  and 
stared  at  Barrymore. 

"  You  know  that  there  is  another  man  then? 

"  Yes,  sir;  there  is  another  man  upon  the  moor/* 

"  Have  you  seen  him?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  know  of  him  then?  " 

"  Selden  told  me  of  him,  sir,  a  week  ago  or  more. 
He's  in  hiding,  too,  but  he's  not  a  convict  as  far 
as  I  can  make  out.  I  don't  like  it,  Dr.  Watson — I 
tell  you  straight,  sir,  that  I  don't  like  it."  He  spoke 
with  a  sudden  passion  of  earnestness. 

Now,  listen  to  me,  Barrymore!  I  have  no  in- 
terest in  this  matter  but  that  of  your  master.  I 
have  come  here  with  no  object  except  to  help  him. 
Tell  me,  frankly,  what  it  is  that  you  don't  like." 

Barrymore  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  re- 
gretted his  outburst,  or  found  it  difficult  to  express 
his  own  feelings  in  words. 

"  It's  all  these  goings-on,  sir,"  he  cried  at  last, 
waving  his  hand  towards  the  rain-lashed  window 
which  faced  the  moor.  "  There's  foul  play  some- 
where, and  there's  black  villainy  brewing,  to  that 
I'll  swear!  Very  glad  I  should  be,  sir,  to  see  Sir 
Henry  on  his  way  back  to  London  again! " 

"  But  what  is  it  that  alarms  you?  " 

"Look  at  Sir  Charles's  death!    That  was  bad 

159 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

enough,  for  all  that  the  coroner  said.  Look  at  the 
noises  on  the  moor  at  night.  There's  not  a  man 
would  cross  it  after  sundown  if  he  was  paid  for  it. 
Look  at  this  stranger  hiding  out  yonder,  and  watch- 
ing and  waiting!  What's  he  waiting  for?  What 
does  it  mean?  It  means  no  good  to  anyone  of  the 
name  of  Baskerville,  and  very  glad  I  shall  be  to 
be  quit  of  it  all  on  the  day  that  Sir  Henry's  new 
servants  are  ready  to  take  over  the  Hall." 

But  about  this  stranger,"  said  L  Can  you 
tell  me  anything  about  him?  What  did  Selden  say? 
Did  he  find  out  where  he  hid,  or  what  he  was 
doing?  " 

"  He  saw  him  once  or  twice,  but  he  is  a  deep  one, 
and  gives  nothing  away.  At  first  he  thought  that 
he  was  the  police,  but  soon  he  found  that  he  had 
some  lay  of  his  own.  A  kind  of  gentleman  he  was, 
as  far  as  he  could  see,  but  what  he  was  doing  he 
could  not  make  out." 

And  where  did  he  say  that  he  lived?  " 

"  Among  the  old  houses  on  the  hillside — the 
stone  huts  where  the  old  folk  used  to  live." 
But  how  about  his  food?  " 

"  Selden  found  out  that  he  has  got  a  lad  who 
works  for  him  and  brings  him  all  he  needs.  I  dare- 
say he  goes  to  Coombe  Tracey  for  what  he  wants." 

"  Very  good,  Barrymore.  We  may  talk  further 
of  this  some  other  time."  When  the  butler  had 
gone  I  walked  over  to  the  black  window,  and  I 
looked  through  a  blurred  pane  at  the  driving  clouds 

1 60 


THE    DIARY    OF    DR.  WATSON 

and  at  the  tossing  outline  of  the  wind-swept  trees. 
It  is  a  wild  night  indoors,  and  what  must  it  be  in 
a  stone  hut  upon  the  moor.  What  passion  of  hatred 
can  it  be  which  leads  a  man  to  lurk  in  such  a  place 
at  such  a  time!  And  what  deep  and  earnest  pur- 
pose can  he  have  which  calls  for  such  a  trial! 
There,  in  that  hut  upon  the  moor,  seems  to  lie  the 
very  centre  of  that  problem  which  has  vexed  me 
so  sorely.  I  swear  that  another  day  shall  not  have 
passed  before  I  have  done  all  that  man  can  do  to 
reach  the  heart  of  the  mystery. 


i6l 


XI 

The  Man  on  the  Tor 

THE  extract  from  my  private  diary  which 
forms  the  last  chapter  has  brought  my  nar- 
rative up  to  the  1 8th  of  October,  a  time 
when  these  strange  events  began  to  move  swiftly 
towards  their  terrible  conclusion.  The  incidents  of 
the  next  few  days  are  indelibly  graven  upon  my 
recollection,  and  I  can  tell  them  without  reference 
to  the  notes  made  at  the  time.  I  start  then  from 
the  day  which  succeeded  that  upon  which  I  had 
established  two  facts  of  great  importance,  the  one 
that  Mrs.  Laura  Lyons  of  Coombe  Tracey  had  writ- 
ten to  Sir  Charles  Baskerville  and  made  an  appoint- 
ment with  him  at  the  very  place  and  hour  that  he 
met  his  death,  the  other  that  the  lurking  man  upon 
the  moor  was  to  be  found  among  the  stone  huts 
upon  the  hill-side.  With  these  cwo  facts  in  my  pos- 
session I  felt  that  either  my  intelligence  or  my  cour^ 
age  must  be  deficient  if  I  could  not  throw  some 
further  light  upon  these  dark  places. 

I  had  no  opportunity  to  tell  the  baronet  what  I 
had  learned  about  Mrs.  Lyons  upon  the  evening 
before,  for  Dr.  Mortimer  remained  with  him  at  cards 
until  it  was  very  late.  At  breakfast,  however,  I 
informed  him  about  my  discovery,  and  asked  him 

162 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  TOR 

whether  he  would  care  to  accompany  me  to 
Coombe  Tracey.  At  first  he  was  very  eager  to 
come,  but  on  second  thoughts  it  seemed  to  both  of 
us  that  if  I  went  alone  the  results  might  be  better. 
The  more  formal  we  made  the  visit  the  less  informa- 
tion we  might  obtain.  I  left  Sir  Henry  behind, 
therefore,  not  without  some  prickings  of  conscience, 
and  drove  oflf  upon  my  new  quest. 

When  I  reached  Coombe  Tracey  I  told  Perkins 
to  put  up  the  horses,  and  I  made  inquiries  for  the 
lady  whom  I  had  come  to  interrogate.  I  had  no 
difficulty  in  finding  her  rooms,  which  were  central 
and  well  appointed.  A  maid  showed  me  in  without 
ceremony,  and  as  I  entered  the  sitting-room  a  lady, 
who  was  sitting  before  a  Remington  typewriter, 
sprang  up  with  a  pleasant  smile  of  welcome.  Her 
face  fell,  however,  when  she  saw  that  I  was  a 
stranger,  and  she  sat  down  again  and  asked  me  the 
object  of  my  visit. 

The  first  impression  left  by  Mrs.  Lyons  was  one 
of  extreme  beauty.  Her  eyes  and  hair  were  of  the 
same  rich  hazel  colour,  and  her  cheeks,  though  con- 
siderably freckled,  were  flushed  with  the  exquisite 
bloom  of  the  brunette,  the  dainty  pink  which  lurks 
at  the  heart  of  the  sulphur  rose.  Admiration  was, 
I  repeat,  the  first  impression.  But  the  second  was 
criticism.  There  was  something  subtly  wrong  with 
the  face,  some  coarseness  of  expression,  some  hard- 
ness, perhaps,  of  eye,  some  looseness  of  lip  which 
marred  its  perfect  beauty.    But  these,  of  course, 

163 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

are  after-thoughts.  At  the  moment  I  was  simply 
conscious  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  a  very  hand- 
some woman,  and  that  she  was  asking  me  the  rea- 
sons for  my  visit.  I  had  not  quite  understood  until 
that  instant  how  delicate  my  mission  was. 

"  I  have  the  pleasure/'  said  I,  "  of  knowing  your 
father.'' 

It  was  a  clumsy  introduction,  and  the  lady  made 
me  feel  it.  • 

There  is  nothing  in  common  between  my  father 
and  me,"  she  said.      I  owe  him  nothing,  and  his  - 
friends  are  not  mine.    If  it  were  not  for  the  late 
Sir  Charles  Baskerville  and  some  other  kind  hearts 
I  might  have  starved  for  all  that  my  father  cared." 

It  was  about  the  late  Sir  Charles  Baskerville 
that  I  have  come  here  to  see  you." 

The  freckles  started  out  on  the  lady's  face. 

"  What  can  I  tell  you  about  him?  "  she  asked, 
and  her  fingers  played  nervously  over  the  stops  of 
her  typewriter. 

"  You  knew  him,  did  you  not?  " 
I  have  already  said  that  I  owe  a  great  deal  to 
his  kindness.    If  I  am  able  to  support  myself  it  is 
largely  due  to  the  interest  which  he  took  in  my  un- 
happy situation." 

Did  you  correspond  with  him?  " 

The  lady  looked  quickly  up  with  an  angry  gleam 
in  her  hazel  eyes. 

''What  is  the  object  of  these  questions?"  she 
asked,  sharply. 

164 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  ToR 

"  The  object  is  to  avoid  a  public  scandal.  It  is 
better  that  I  should  ask  them  here  than  that  the 
matter  should  pass  outside  our  control." 

She  was  silent  and  her  face  was  still  very  pale. 
At  last  she  looked  up  with  something  reckless  and 
defiant  in  her  manner. 

"  Well,  ril  answer,"  she  said.  "  What  are  your 
questions?  " 

Did  you  correspond  with  Sir  Charles?  " 
"  I  certainly  wrote  to  him  once  or  twice  to  ac- 
knowledge his  delicacy  and  his  generosity." 
Have  you  the  dates  of  those  letters?  " 
No." 

"  Have  you  ever  met  him?  " 

"  Yes,  once  or  twice,  when  he  came  into  Coombe 
Tracey.  He  was  a  very  retiring  man,  and  he  pre- 
ferred to  do  good  by  stealth." 

"  But  if  you  saw  him  so  seldom  and  wrote  so  sel- 
dom, how  did  he  know  enough  about  your  affairs 
to  be  able  to  help  you,  as  you  say  that  he  has 
done?" 

She  met  my  difficulty  with  the  utmost  readi- 
ness. 

There  were  several  gentlemen  who  knew  my 
sad  history  and  united  to  help  me.  One  was  Mr. 
Stapleton,  a  neighbour  and  intimate  friend  of  Sir 
Charles's.  He  was  exceedingly  kind,  and  it  was 
through  him  that  Sir  Charles  learned  about  my 
affairs." 

I  knew  already  that  Sir  Charles  Baskerville  had 

165 


TM£   HoUnD  of  the  BAsKERVILLeS 

made  Stapleton  his  almoner  upon  several  occasions, 
so  the  lady's  statement  bore  the  impress  of  truth 
upon  it. 

"  Did  you  ever  write  to  Sir  Charles  asking  him 
to  meet  you?  "  I  continued. 

Mrs.  Lyons  flushed  with  anger  again. 
Really,  sir,  this  is  a  very  extraordinary  ques- 
tion." 

I  am  sorry,  Madame,  but  I  must  repeat  it/' 
Then  I  answer,  certainly  not.'' 
"  Not  on  the  very  day  of  Sir  Charles's  death?  '* 
The  flush  had  faded  in  an  instant,  and  a  deathly 
face  was  before  me.    Her  dry  lips  could  not  speak 
the    No  "  which  I  saw  rather  than  heard. 

"  Surely  your  memory  deceives  you,"  said  1.  "  I 
could  even  quote  a  passage  of  your  letter.  It  ran 
*  Please,  please,  as  you  are  a  gentleman,  burn  this 
letter,  and  be  at  the  gate  by  ten  o'clock.' " 

I  thought  that  she  had  fainted,  but  she  recovered 
herself  by  a  supreme  effort. 

Is  there  no  such  thing  as  a  gentleman?"  she 
gasped. 

"  You  do  Sir  Charles  an  injustice.  He  did  burn 
the  letter.  But  sometimes  a  letter  may  be  legible 
even  when  burned.  You  acknowledge  now  that 
you  wrote  it." 

Yes,  I  did  write  it,"  she  cried,  pouring  out  her 
soul  in  a  torrent  of  words.  "  I  did  write  it.  Why 
should  I  deny  it?  I  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed 
of  it.    I  wished  him  to  help  me.    I  believed  that  if 

i66 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  TOR 


I  had  an  interview  I  could  gain  his  help,  so  I  asked 
him  to  meet  me/' 

But  why  at  such  an  hour?  " 

"  Because  I  had  only  just  learned  that  he  was  go- 
ing to  London  next  day  and  might  be  away  for 
months.  There  were  reasons  why  I  could  not  get 
there  earlier/* 

"  But  why  a  rendezvous  in  the  garden  instead  of 
a  visit  to  the  house?  " 

"  Do  you  think  a  woman  could  go  alone  at  that 
hour  to  a  bachelor's  house?  '' 

"  Well,  what  happened  when  you  did  get  there?  " 

"  I  never  went/' 
Mrs.  Lyons!" 

"  No,  I  swear  it  to  you  on  all  I  hold  sacred.  I 
never  went.  Something  intervened  to  prevent  my 
going." 

"  What  was  that?" 

"  That  is  a  private  matter.    I  cannot  tell  it." 
You  acknowledge  then  that  you  made  an  ap- 
pointment with  Sir  Charles  at  the  very  hour  and 
place  at  which  he  met  his  death,  but  you  deny  that 
you  kept  the  appointment." 

"  That  is  the  truth." 

Again  and  again  I  cross-questioned  her,  but  I 
could  never  get  past  that  point. 

"  Mrs.  Lyons,"  said  I,  as  I  rose  from  this  long 
and  inconclusive  interview,  "  you  are  taking  a  very 
great  responsibility  and  putting  yourself  in  a  very 
false  position  by  not  making  an  absolutely  clean 

167 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

breast  of  all  that  you  know.  If  I  have  to  call  in  the 
aid  of  the  police  you  will  find  how  seriously  you  are 
compromised.  If  your  position  is  innocent,  why 
did  you  in  the  first  instance  deny  having  written  to 
Sir  Charles  upon  that  date?  " 

Because  I  feared  that  some  false  conclusion 
might  be  drawn  from  it,  and  that  I  might  find  my- 
self involved  in  a  scandal." 

"  And  why  were  you  so  pressing  that  Sir  Charles 
should  destroy  your  letter? 

"  If  you  have  read  the  letter  you  will  know." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  I  had  read  all  the  letter." 

"  You  quoted  some  of  it." 
I  quoted  the  postscript.  The  letter  had,  as  I 
said,  been  burned  and  it  was  not  all  legible.  I  ask 
you  once  again  why  it  was  that  you  were  so  press- 
ing that  Sir  Charles  should  destroy  this  letter  which 
he  received  on  the  day  of  his  death." 

"  The  matter  is  a  very  private  one." 

*'The  more  reason  why  you  avoid  a  public  in- 
vestigation." 

I  will  tell  you,  then.  If  you  have  heard  any- 
thing of  my  unhappy  history  you  will  know  that  I 
made  a  rash  marriage  and  had  reason  to  regret  it." 

"  I  have  heard  so  much." 

"  My  life  has  been  one  incessant  persecution  from 
a  husband  whom  I  abhor.  The  law  is  upon  his  side, 
and  every  day  I  am  faced  by  the  possibility  that  he 
may  force  me  to  live  with  him.  At  the  time  that  I 
wrote  this  letter  to  Sir  Charles  I  had  learned  that 

i68 


I 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  TOR 

there  was  a  prospect  of  my  regaining  my  freedom 
if  certain  expenses  could  be  met.  It  meant  every- 
thing to  me — peace  of  mind,  happiness,  self-respect 
— everything.  I  knew  Sir  Charles's  generosity, 
and  I  thought  that  if  he  heard  the  story  from  my 
own  lips  he  would  help  me." 

Then  how  is  it  that  you  did  not  go?  " 

"  Because  I  received  help  in  the  interval  from  an- 
other source." 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  not  write  to  Sir  Charles  and 
explain  this?  " 

"  So  I  should  have  done  had  I  not  seen  his  death 
in  the  paper  next  morning." 

The  woman's  story  hung  coherently  together, 
and  all  my  questions  were  unable  to  shake  it.  I 
could  only  check  it  by  finding  if  she  had,  indeed, 
instituted  divorce  proceedings  against  her  husband 
at  or  about  the  time  of  the  tragedy. 

It  was  unlikely  that  she  would  dare  to  say  that 
she  had  not  been  to  Baskerville  Hall  if  she  really 
had  been,  for  a  trap  would  be  necessary  to  take  her 
there,  and  could  not  have  returned  to  Coombe 
Tracey  until  the  early  hours  of  the  morning.  Such 
an  excursion  could  not  be  kept  secret.  The  prob- 
ability was,  therefore,  that  she  was  telling  the  truth, 
or,  at  least,  a  part  of  the  truth.  I  came  away  baf- 
fled and  disheartened.  Once  again  I  had  reached 
that  dead  wall  which  seemed  to  be  built  across  every 
path  by  which  I  tried  to  get  at  the  object  of  my 
mission.    And  yet  the  more  I  thought  of  the  lady's 

169 


THE   HOUND    OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

face  and  of  her  manner  the  more  I  felt  that  some- 
thing was  being  held  back  from  me.  Why  should 
she  turn  so  pale?  Why  should  she  fight  against 
every  admission  until  it  was  forced  from  her?  Why 
should  she  have  been  so  reticent  at  the  time  of  the 
tragedy?  Surely  the  explanation  of  all  this  could 
not  be  as  innocent  as  she  would  have  me  believe. 
For  the  moment  I  could  proceed  no  farther  in  that 
direction,  but  must  turn  back  to  that  other  clue 
which  was  to  be  sought  for  among  the  stone  huts 
upon  the  moor. 

And  that  was  a  most  vague  direction.  I  realized 
it  as  I  drove  back  and  noted  how  hill  after  hill 
showed  traces  of  the  ancient  people.  Barrymore's 
only  indication  had  been  that  the  stranger  lived  in 
one  of  these  abandoned  huts,  and  many  hundreds 
of  them  are  scattered  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  moor.  But  I  had  my  own  experi- 
ence for  a  guide  since  it  had  shown  me  the  man 
himself  standing  upon  the  summit  of  the  Black  Tor. 
That  then  should  be  the  centre  of  my  search.  From 
there  I  should  explore  every  hut  upon  the  moor  un- 
til I  lighted  upon  the  right  one.  If  this  man  were 
inside  it  I  should  find  out  from  his  own  lips,  at  the 
point  of  my  revolver  if  necessary,  who  he  was  and 
why  he  had  dogged  us  so  long.  He  might  slip 
away  from  us  in  the  crowd  of  Regent  Street,  but  it 
would  puzzle  him  to  do  so  upon  the  lonely  moor. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  I  should  find  the  hut  and  its 
tenant  should  not  be  within  it  I  must  remain  there, 

170 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  ToR 


however  long  the  vigil,  until  he  returned.  Holmes 
had  missed  him  in  London.  It  would  indeed  be  a 
triumph  for  me  if  I  could  run  him  to  earth,  where 
my  master  had  failed. 

Luck  had  been  against  us  again  and  again  in  this 
inquiry,  but  now  at  last  it  came  to  my  aid.  And 
the  messenger  of  good  fortune  was  none  other  than 
Mr.  Frankland,  who  was  standing,  grey  whiskered 
and  red-faced,  outside  the  gate  of  his  garden,  which 
opened  on  to  the  high  road  along  which  I  travelled. 

"  Good-day,  Dr.  Watson,"  cried  he,  with  un- 
wonted good  humour,  "  you  must  really  give  your 
horses  a  rest,  and  come  in  to  have  a  glass  of  wine 
and  to  congratulate  me.'' 

My  feelings  towards  him  were  far  from  being 
friendly  after  what  I  had  heard  of  his  treatment  of 
his  daughter,  but  I  was  anxious  to  send  Perkins  and 
the  waggonette  home,  and  the  opportunity  was  a 
good  one.  I  alighted  and  sent  a  message  to  Sir 
Henry  that  I  should  walk  over  in  time  for  dinner. 
Then  I  followed  Frankland  into  his  dining-room. 

"  It  is  a  great  day  for  me,  sir — one  of  the  red- 
letter  days  of  my  life,''  he  cried,  with  many  chuckles. 
"  I  have  brought  off  a  double  event.  I  mean  to 
teach  them  in  these  parts  that  law  is  law,  and  that 
there  is  a  man  here  who  does  not  fear  to  invoke  it. 
I  have  established  a  right  of  way  through  the  centre 
of  old  Middleton's  park,  slap  across  it,  sir,  within 
a  hundred  yards  of  his  own  front  door.  What  do 
you  think  of  that?    We'll  teach  these  magnates  that 

171 


THE    HOUND  OF  f  M  E  BASKERVlLLfiS 


they  cannot  ride  rough  shod  over  the  rights  of  the 
commoners,  confound  them!  And  Fve  closed  the 
wood  where  the  Fernworthy  folk  used  to  picnic. 
.  These  infernal  people  seem  to  think  that  there  are 
no  rights  of  property,  and  that  they  can  swarm 
where  they  like  with  their  papers  and  their  bottles. 
Both  cases  decided.  Dr.  Watson,  and  both  in  my 
favour.  I  haven't  had  such  a  day  since  I  had  Sir 
John  Morland  for  trespass,  because  he  shot  in  his 
own  warren.'' 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  do  that? 
Look  it  up  in  the  books,  sir.     It  will  repay 
reading — Frankland  v.  Morland,  Court  of  Queen's 
Bench.    It  cost  me  £200,  but  I  got  my  verdict." 
Did  it  do  you  any  good?  " 

"  None,  sir,  none.  I  am  proud  to  say  that  I  had 
no  interest  in  the  matter.  I  act  entirely  from  a 
sense  of  public  duty.  I  have  no  doubt,  for  exam- 
ple, that  the  Fernworthy  people  will  burn  me  in 
effigy  to-night.  I  told  the  police  last  time  they  did 
it  that  they  should  stop  these  disgraceful  exhibi- 
tions. The  County  Constabulary  is  in  a  scandalous 
state,  sir,  and  it  has  not  afforded  me  the  protection 
to  which  I  am  entitled.  The  case  of  Frankland  v. 
Regina  will  bring  the  matter  before  the  attention  of 
the  public.  I  told  them  that  they  would  have  occa- 
sion to  regret  their  treatment  of  me,  and  already 
my  words  have  come  true." 

"  How  so?  "  I  asked. 

The  old  man  put  on  a  very  knowing  expression. 

172 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  TOR 

"  Because  I  could  tell  them  what  they  are  dying 
to  know;  but  nothing  would  induce  me  to  help  the 
rascals  in  any  way." 

I  had  been  casting  round  for  some  excuse  by 
which  I  could  get  away  from  his  gossip,  but  now 
I  began  to  wish  to  hear  more  of  it.  I  had  seen 
enough  of  the  contrary  nature  of  the  old  sinner  to 
understand  that  any  strong  sign  of  interest  would 
be  the  surest  way  to  stop  his  confidences. 

Some  poaching  case,  no  doubt?  "  said  I,  with 
an  indifferent  manner. 

Ha,  ha,  my  boy,  a  very  much  more  important 
matter  than  that!  What  about  the  convict  on  the 
moor?  " 

I  started.  "  You  don't  mean  that  you  know 
where  he  is? said  L 

"  I  may  not  know  exactly  where  he  is,  but  I  am 
quite  sure  that  I  could  help  the  police  to  lay  their 
hands  on  him.  Has  it  never  struck  you  that  the 
way  to  catch  that  man  was  to  find  out  where  he 
got  his  food,  and  so  trace  it  to  him?  " 

He  certainly  seemed  to  be  getting  uncomfortably 
near  the  truth.  No  doubt,''  said  I ;  but  how  do 
you  know  that  he  is  anywhere  upon  the  moor?  '* 

"  I  know  it  because  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes 
the  messenger  who  takes  him  his  food." 

My  heart  sank  for  Barrymore.  It  was  a  serious 
thing  to  be  in  the  power  of  this  spiteful  old  busy- 
body. But  his  next  remark  took  a  weight  from  my 
mind. 

173 


THE   HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

You'll  be  surprised  to  hear  that  his  food  is  taken 
to  him  by  a  child.  I  see  him  every  day  through 
my  telescope  upon  the  roof.  He  passes  along  the 
same  path  at  the  same  hour,  and  to  whom  should 
he  be  going  except  to  the  convict? 

Here  was  luck  indeed!  And  yet  I  suppressed  all 
appearance  of  interest.  A  child!  Barrymore  had 
said  that  our  unknown  was  supplied  by  a  boy.  It 
was  on  his  track,  and  not  upon  the  convict's,  that 
Frankland  had  stumbled.  If  I  could  get  his  knowl- 
edge it  might  save  me  a  long  and  weary  hunt.  But 
incredulity  and  indifference  were  evidently  my 
strongest  cards. 

"  I  should  say  that  it  was  much  more  likely  that 
it  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  moorland  shepherds 
taking  out  his  father's  dinner." 

The  least  appearance  of  opposition  struck  fire  out 
of  the  old  autocrat.  His  eyes  looked  malignantly 
at  me,  and  his  grey  whiskers  bristled  like  those  of 
an  angry  cat. 

"Indeed,  sir!"  said  he,  pointing  out  over  the 
wide-stretching  moor.  Do  you  see  that  Black 
Tor  over  yonder?  Well,  do  you  see  the  low  hill 
beyond  with  the  thornbrush  upon  it?  It  is  the 
stoniest  part  of  the  whole  moor.  Is  that  a  place 
where  a  shepherd  would  be  likely  to  take  his  sta- 
tion?   Your  suggestion,  sir,  is  a  most  absurd  one." 

I  meekly  answered  that  I  had  spoken  without 
knowing  all  the  facts.  My  submission  pleased  him 
and  led  him  to  further  confidences. 


174 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  TOR 

You  may  be  sure,  sir,  that  I  have  very  good 
grounds  before  I  come  to  an  opinion.  I  have  seen 
the  boy  again  and  again  with  his  bundle.  Every 
day,  and  sometimes  twice  a  day,  I  have  been  able 
— but  wait  a  moment.  Dr.  Watson.  Do  my  eyes 
deceive  me,  or  is  there  at  the  present  moment  some- 
thing moving  upon  that  hill-side? 

It  was  several  miles  off,  but  I  could  distinctly 
see  a  small  dark  dot  against  the  dull  green  and 
grey. 

Come,  sir,  come!"  cried  Frankland,  rushing 
upstairs.  "  You  will  see  with  your  own  eyes  and 
judge  for  yourself." 

The  telescope,  a  formidable  instrument  mounted 
upon  a  tripod,  stood  upon  the  fiat  leads  of  the 
house.  Frankland  clapped  his  eye  to  it  and  gave 
a  cry  of  satisfaction. 

"  Quick,  Dr.  Watson,  quick,  before  he  passes 
over  the  hill!" 

There  he  was,  sure  enough,  a  small  urchin  with 
a  little  bundle  upon  his  shoulder,  toiling  slowly  up 
the  hill.  When  he  reached  the  crest  I  saw  the  rag- 
ged uncouth  figure  outlined  for  an  instant  against 
the  cold  blue  sky.  He  looked  round  him,  with  a 
furtive  and  stealthy  air,  as  one  who  dreads  pursuit. 
Then  he  vanished  over  the  hill. 

"Well!    Am  I  right?" 

"  Certainly,  there  is  a  boy  who  seems  to  have 
some  secret  errand." 

And  what  the  errand  is  even  a  county  constable 

175 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

could  guess.    But  not  one  word  shall  they  have 
from  me,  and  I  bind  you  to  secrecy  also,  Dr.  Wat- 
son.   Not  a  word!    You  understand!" 
Just  as  you  wish.'' 

They  have  treated  me  shamefully — shamefully. 
When  the  facts  come  out  in  Frankland  v.  Regina 
I  venture  to  think  that  a  thrill  of  indignation  will 
run  through  the  country.  Nothing  would  induce 
me  to  help  the  police  in  any  way.  For  all  they 
cared  it  might  have  been  me,  instead  of  my  effigy, 
which  these  rascals  burned  at  the  stake.  Surely 
you  are  not  going !  You  will  help  me  to  empty  the 
decanter  in  honour  of  this  great  occasion!  " 

But  I  resisted  all  his  solicitations  and  succeeded 
in  dissuading  him  from  his  announced  intention  of 
walking  home  with  me.  I  kept  the  road  as  long 
as  his  eye  was  on  me,  and  then  I  struck  oflf  across 
the  moor  and  made  for  the  stony  hill  over  which 
the  boy  had  disappeared.  Everything  was  working 
in  my  favour,  and  I  swore  that  it  should  not  be 
through  lack  of  energy  or  perseverance  that  I 
should  miss  the  chance  which  Fortune  had  thrown 
in  my  way. 

The  sun  was  already  sinking  when  I  reached  the 
summit  of  the  hill,  and  the  long  slopes  beneath  me 
were  all  golden-green  on  one  side  and  grey  shadow 
on  the  other.  A  haze  lay  low  upon  the  farthest 
sky-line,  out  of  which  jutted  the  fantastic  shapes  of 
Belliver  and  Vixen  Tor.  Over  the  wide  expanse 
there  was  no  sound  and  no  movement.    One  great 

176 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  TOR 


grey  bird,  a  gull  or  curlew,  soared  aloft  in  the  blue 
Heaven.  He  and  I  seemed  to  be  the  only  living 
things  between  the  huge  arch  of  the  sky  and  the 
desert  beneath  it.  The  barren  scene,  the  sense  of 
loneliness,  and  the  mystery  and  urgency  of  my  task 
all  struck  a  chill  into  my  heart.  The  boy  was  no- 
where to  be  seen.  But  down  beneath  me  in  a  cleft 
of  the  hills  there  was  a  circle  of  the  old  stone  huts, 
and  in  the  middle  of  them  there  was  one  which  re- 
tained sufficient  roof  to  act  as  a  screen  against  the 
weather.  My  heart  leaped  within  me  as  I  saw  it. 
This  must  be  the  burrow  where  the  stranger 
lurked.  At  last  my  foot  was  on  the  threshold  of 
his  hiding  place — his  secret  was  within  my  grasp. 

As  I  approached  the  hut,  walking  as  warily  as 
Stapleton  would  do  when  with  poised  net  he  drew 
near  the  settled  butterfly,  I  satisfied  myself  that  the 
place  had  indeed  been  used  as  a  habitation.  A 
vague  pathway  among  the  boulders  led  to  the 
dilapidated  opening  which  served  as  a  door.  All 
was  silent  within.  The  unknown  might  be  lurking 
there,  or  he  might  be  prowling  on  the  moor.  My 
nerves  tingled  with  the  sense  of  adventure.  Throw- 
ing aside  my  cigarette,  I  closed  my  hand  upon  the 
butt  of  my  revolver  and,  walking  swiftly  up  to  the 
door,  I  looked  in.    The  place  was  empty. 

But  there  were  ample  signs  that  I  had  not  come 
upon  a  false  scent.  This  was  certainly  where  the 
man  lived.  Some  blankets  rolled  in  a  waterproof 
lay  upon  that  very  stone  slab  upon  which  neolithic 

177 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

man  had  once  slumbered.  The  ashes  of  a  fire  were 
heaped  in  a  rude  grate.  Beside  it  lay  some  cook- 
ing utensils  and  a  bucket  half-full  of  water.  A  lit- 
ter of  empty  tins  showed  that  the  place  had  been 
occupied  for  some  time,  and  I  saw,  as  my  eyes  be- 
came accustomed  to  the  chequered  light,  a  panni- 
kin and  a  half-full  bottle  of  spirits  standing  in  the 
corner.  In  the  middle  of  the  hut  a  flat  stone  served 
the  purpose  of  a  table,  and  upon  this  stood  a  small 
cloth  bundle — the  same,  no  doubt,  which  I  had  seen 
through  the  telescope  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  boy. 
It  contained  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  tinned  tongue,  and 
two  tins  of  preserved  peaches.  As  I  set  it  down 
again,  after  having  examined  it,  my  heart  leaped  to 
see  that  beneath  it  there  lay  a  sheet  of  paper  with 
writing  upon  it.  I  raised  it,  and  this  was  what  I 
read,  roughly  scrawled  in  pencil: — 

"  Dr.  Watson  has  gone  to  Coombe  Tracey." 

For  a  minute  I  stood  there  with  the  paper  in  my 
hands  thinking  out  the  meaning  of  this  curt  mes- 
sage. It  was  I,  then,  and  not  Sir  Henry,  who  was 
being  dogged  by  this  secret  man.  He  had  not  fol- 
lowed me  himself,  but  he  had  set  an  agent — the 
boy,  perhaps — upon  my  track,  and  this  was  his  re- 
port. Possibly  I  had  taken  no  step  since  I  had 
been  upon  the  moor  which  had  not  been  observed 
and  repeated.  Always  there  was  this  feeling  of  an 
unseen  force,  a  fine  net  drawn  round  us  with  infinite 
skill  and  delicacy,  holding  us  so  lightly  that  it  was 

178 


THE    MAN    ON    THE  TOR 


only  at  some  supreme  moment  that  one  realized 
that  one  was  indeed  entangled  in  its  meshes. 

If  there  was  one  report  there  might  be  others, 
so  I  looked  round  the  hut  in  search  of  them.  There 
was  no  trace,  however,  of  anything  of  the  kind,  nor 
could  I  discover  any  sign  which  might  indicate  the 
character  or  intentions  of  the  man  who  lived  in  this 
singular  place,  save  that  he  must  be  of  Spartan  hab- 
its, and  cared  little  for  the  comforts  of  life.  When 
I  thought  of  the  heavy  rains  and  looked  at  the 
gaping  roof  I  understood  how  strong  and  immuta- 
ble must  be  the  purpose  which  had  kept  him  in 
that  inhospitable  abode.  Was  he  our  malignant 
enemy,  or  was  he  by  chance  our  guardian  angel? 
I  swore  that  I  would  not  leave  the  hut  until  I 
knew. 

Outside  the  sun  was  sinking  low  and  the  west 
was  blazing  with  scarlet  and  gold.  Its  reflection 
was  shot  back  in  ruddy  patches  by  the  distant  pools 
which  lay  amid  the  great  Grimpen  Mire.  There 
were  the  two  towers  of  Baskerville  Hall,  and  there 
a  distant  blur  of  smoke  which  marked  the  village 
of  Grimpen.  Between  the  two,  behind  the  hill,  was 
the  house  of  the  Stapletons.  All  was  sweet  and 
mellow  and  peaceful  in  the  golden  evening  light, 
and  yet  as  I  looked  at  them  my  soul  shared  none 
of  the  peace  of  nature,  but  quivered  at  the  vague- 
ness and  the  terror  of  that  interview  which  every 
instant  was  bringing  nearer.  With  tingling  nerves, 
but  a  fixed  purpose,  I  sat  in  the  dark  recess  of  the 

179 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


hut  and  waited  with  sombre  patience  for  the  com- 
ing of  its  tenant. 

And  then  at  last  I  heard  him.  Far  a.way  came 
the  sharp  clink  of  a  boot  striking  upon  a  stone. 
Then  another  and  yet  another,  coming  nearer  and 
nearer.  I  shrank  back  into  the  darkest  corner,  and 
cocked  the  pistol  in  my  pocket,  determined  not  to 
discover  myself  until  I  had  an  opportunity  of  see- 
ing something  of  the  stranger.  There  was  a  long 
pause  which  showed  that  he  had  stopped.  Then 
once  more  the  footsteps  approached  and  a  shadow 
fell  across  the  opening  of  the  hut. 

"  It  is  a  lovely  evening,  my  dear  Watson,''  said 
a  well-known  voice.  "  I  really  think  that  you  will 
be  more  comfortable  outside  than  in." 


1 80 


XII 


Death  on  the  Moor 

FOR  a  moment  or  two  I  sat  breathless,  hard- 
ly able  to  believe  my  ears.  Then  my  senses 
and  my  voice  came  back  to  me,  while 
a  crushing  weight  of  responsibility  seemed  in  an 
instant  to  be  lifted  from  my  soul.  That  cold,  in- 
cisive, ironical  voice  could  belong  to  but  one  man 
in  all  the  world. 

Holmes!  "  I  cried—"  Holmes! 
"  Come  out,"  said  he,    and  please  be  careful  with 
the  revolver." 

I  stooped  under  the  rude  lintel,  and  there  he  sat 
upon  a  stone  outside,  his  grey  eyes  dancing  with 
amusement  as  they  fell  upon  my  astonished  feat- 
ures. He  was  thin  and  worn,  but  clear  and  alert, 
his  keen  face  bronzed  by  the  sun  and  roughened 
by  the  wind.  In  his  tweed  suit  and  cloth  cap  he 
looked  like  any  other  tourist  upon  the  moor,  and 
he  had  contrived,  with  that  cat-like  love  of  personal 
cleanliness  which  was  one  of  his  characteristics,  that 
his  chin  should  be  as  smooth  and  his  linen  as  per- 
fect as  if  he  were  in  Baker  Street, 

"  I  never  was  more  glad  to  see  anyone  in  my 
life,"  said  I,  as  I  wrung  him  by  the  hand. 

i8i 


THE   HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


Or  more  astonished,  eh?  " 

Well,  I  must  confess  to  it/' 
"  The  surprise  was  not  all  on  one  side,  I  assure 
you.    I  had  no  idea  that  you  had  found  my  occa- 
sional retreat,  still  less  that  you  were  inside  it,  un- 
til I  was  within  twenty  paces  of  the  door/' 
"  My  footprint,  I  presume?  " 

No,  Watson ;  I  fear  that  I  could  not  undertake 
to  recognise  your  footprint  amid  all  the  footprints 
of  the  world.  If  you  seriously  desire  to  deceive  me 
you  must  change  your  tobacconist;  for  when  I  see 
the  stub  of  a  cigarette  marked  Bradley,  Oxford 
Street,  I  know  that  my  friend  Watson  is  in  the 
neighbourhood.  You  will  see  it  there  beside  the 
path.  You  threw  it  down,  no  doubt,  at  that  su- 
preme moment  when  you  charged  into  the  empty 
hut." 

Exactly." 

"  I  thought  as  much — and  knowing  your  admir- 
able tenacity  I  was  convinced  that  you  were  sitting 
in  ambush,  a  weapon  within  reach,  waiting  for  the 
tenant  to  return.  So  you  actually  thought  that  I 
was  the  criminal?" 

"  I  did  not  know  who  you  were,  but  I  was  deter- 
mined to  find  out." 

"  Excellent,  Watson !  And  how  did  you  localize 
me?  You  saw  me,  perhaps,  on  the  night  of  the 
convict  hunt,  when  I  was  so  imprudent  as  to  allow 
the  moon  to  rise  behind  me?  " 

"  Yes,  I  saw  you  then." 

182 


DEATH    ON    THE  MOOR 

"  And  have  no  doubt  searched  all  the  huts  until 
you  came  to  this  one?  " 

"  No,  your  boy  had  been  observed,  and  that  gave 
me  a  guide  where  to  look." 

"  The  old  gentleman  with  the  telescope,  no  doubt. 
I  could  not  make  it  out  when  first  I  saw  the  light 
flashing  upon  the  lens."  He  rose  and  peeped  into 
the  hut.  "  Ha,  I  see  that  Cartwright  has  brought 
up  some  supplies.  What's  this  paper?  So  you 
have  been  to  Coombe  Tracey,  have  you?  " 
Yes." 

"  To  see  Mrs.  Laura  Lyons?  " 
"  Exactly." 

"  Well  done !  Our  researches  have  evidently 
been  running  on  parallel  Hues,  and  when  we  unite 
our  results  I  expect  we  shall  have  a  fairly  full  knowl- 
edge of  the  case." 

Well,  I  am  glad  from  my  heart  that  you  are 
here,  for  indeed  the  responsibility  and  the  mystery 
were  both  becoming  too  much  for  my  nerves.  But 
how  in  the  name  of  wonder  did  you  come  here,  and 
what  have  you  been  doing?  I  thought  that  you 
were  in  Baker  Street  working  out  that  case  of  black- 
mailing." 

"  That  was  what  I  wished  you  to  think." 

"Then  you  use  me,  and  yet  do  not  trust  me!" 
I  cried,  with  some  bitterness.  "  I  think  that  I  have 
deserved  better  at  your  hands.  Holmes." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  have  been  invaluable  to  me 
in  this  as  in  many  other  cases,  and  I  beg  that  you 

183 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

will  forgive  me  if  I  have  seemed  to  play  a  trick  up- 
on you.  In  truth,  it  was  partly  for  your  own  sake 
that  I  did  it,  and  it  was  my  appreciation  of  the  dan- 
ger which  you  ran  which  led  me  to  come  down  and 
examine  the  matter  for  myself.  Had  I  been  with 
Sir  Henry  and  you  it  is  confident  that  my  point  of 
view  would  have  been  the  same  as  yours,  and  my 
presence  would  have  warned  our  very  formidable 
opponents  to  be  on  their  guard.  As  it  is,  I  have 
been  able  to  get  about  as  I  could  not  possibly  have 
done  had  I  been  living  in  the  Hall,  and  I  remain 
an  unknown  factor  in  the  business,  ready  to  throw 
in  all  my  weight  at  a  critical  moment." 
But  why  keep  me  in  the  dark?  " 
"  For  you  to  know  could  not  have  helped  us,  and 
might  possibly  have  led  to  my  discovery.  You 
would  have  wished  to  tell  me  something,  or  in  your 
kindness  you  would  have  brought  me  out  some 
comfort  or  other,  and  so  an  unnecessary  risk  would 
be  run.  I  brought  Cartwright  down  with  me — ^you 
remember  the  little  chap  at  the  Express  Office — 
and  he  has  seen  after  my  simple  wants:  a  loaf  of 
bread  and  a  clean  collar.  What  does  man  want 
more?  He  has  given  me  an  extra  pair  of  eyes 
upon  a  very  active  pair  of  feet,  and  both  have  been 
invaluable.'' 

"  Then  my  reports  have  all  been  wasted! — My 
voice  trembled  as  I  recalled  the  pains  and  the  pride 
with  which  I  had  composed  them. 

Holmes  took  a  bundle  of  papers  from  his  pocket. 

184 


DEATH    ON    THE  MOOR 

Here  are  your  reports,  my  dear  fellow,  and  very 
well  thumbed,  I  assure  you.  I  made  excellent  ar- 
rangements, and  they  are  only  delayed  one  day  up- 
on their  way.  I  must  compliment  you  exceedingly 
upon  the  zeal  and  the  intelligence  which  you  have 
shown  over  an  extraordinarily  difficult  case." 

I  was  still  rather  raw  over  the  deception  which 
had  been  practised  upon  me,  but  the  warmth  of 
Holmes's  praise  drove  my  anger  from  my  mind.  I 
felt  also  in  my  heart  that  he  was  right  in  what  he 
said  and  that  it  was  really  best  for  our  purpose  that 
I  should  not  have  known  that  he  was  upon  the 
moor. 

"  That's  better,"  said  he,  seeing  the  shadow  rise 
from  my  face.  "  And  now  tell  me  the  result  of  your 
visit  to  Mrs.  Laura  Lyons — it  was  not  difficult  for 
me  to  guess  that  it  was  to  see  her  that  you  had 
gone,  for  I  am  already  aware  that  she  is  the  one 
person  in  Coombe  Tracey  who  might  be  of  service 
to  us  in  the  matter.  In  fact,  if  you  had  not  gone 
to-day  it  is  exceedingly  probable  that  I  should  have 
gone  to-morrow." 

The  sun  had  set  and  dusk  was  settling  over  the 
moor.  The  air  had  turned  chill  and  we  withdrew 
into  the  hut  for  warmth.  There,  sitting  together 
in  the  twilight,  I  told  Holmes  of  my  conversation 
with  the  lady.  So  interested  was  he  that  I  had  to 
repeat  some  of  it  twice  before  he  was  satisfied. 

"  This  is  most  important,"  said  he,  when  I  had 
concluded.      It  fills  up  a  gap  which  I  had  been 

185 


THE  HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

unable  to  bridge,  in  this  most  complex  affair.  You 
are  aware,  perhaps,  that  a  close  intimacy  exists  be- 
tween this  lady  and  the  man  Staple  ton? 
I  did  not  know  of  a  close  intimacy/' 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  matter.  They 
meet,  they  write,  there  is  a  complete  understanding 
between  them.  Now,  this  puts  a  very  powerful 
weapon  into  our  hands.  If  I  could  only  use  it  to 
detach  his  wife  " 

"His  wife?'' 

"  I  am  giving  you  some  information  now,  in  re- 
turn for  all  that  you  have  given  me.  The  lady  who 
has  passed  here  as  Miss  Stapleton  is  in  reality  his 
wife." 

Good  heavens.  Holmes!  Are  you  sure  of  what 
you  say?  How  could  he  have  permitted  Sir  Henry 
to  fall  in  love  with  her?  " 

Sir  Henry's  falling  in  love  could  do  no  harm  to 
anyone  except  Sir  Henry.  He  took  particular  care 
that  Sir  Henry  did  not  make  love  to  her,  as  you 
have  yourself  observed.  I  repeat  that  the  lady  is 
his  wife  and  not  his  sister." 

"  But  why  this  elaborate  deception?  '* 

Because  he  foresaw  that  she  would  be  very 
much  more  useful  to  him  in  the  character  of  a  free 
woman." 

All  my  unspoken  instincts,  my  vague  suspicions, 
suddenly  took  shape  and  centred  upon  the  natural- 
ist. In  that  impassive,  colourless  man,  with  his 
straw  hat  and  his  butterfly-net,  I  seemed  to  see 

186 


DEATH    ON    THE  MOOR 

something  terrible — a  creature  of  infinite  patience 
and  craft,  with  a  smiling  face  and  a  murderous  heart. 

"  It  is  he,  then,  who  is  our  enemy — it  is  he  who 
dogged  us  in  London? 

"  So  I  read  the  riddle." 

"And  the  warning — it  must  have  come  from 
her!" 

"Exactly." 

The  shape  of  some  monstrous  villainy,  half  seen, 
half  guessed,  loomed  through  the  darkness  which 
had  girt  me  so  long. 

"  But  are  you  sure  of  this,  Holmes?  How  do 
you  know  that  the  woman  is  his  wife?  " 

"  Because  he  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  tell  you 
a  true  piece  of  autobiography  upon  the  occasion 
when  he  first  met  you,  and  I  daresay  he  has  many 
a  time  regretted  it  since.  He  was  once  a  school- 
master in  the  North  of  England.  Now,  there  is  no 
one  more  easy  to  trace  than  a  schoolmaster.  There 
are  scholastic  agencies  by  which  one  may  identify 
any  man  who  has  been  in  the  profession.  A  little 
investigation  showed  me  that  a  school  had  come  to 
grief  under  atrocious  circumstances,  and  that  the 
man  who  had  owned  it — the  name  was  different 
— ^had  disappeared  with  his  wife.  The  descriptions 
agreed.  When  I  learned  that  the  missing  man  was 
devoted  to  entomology  the  identification  was  com- 
plete." 

The  darkness  was  rising,  but  much  was  still  hid- 
den by  the  shadows. 

187 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  If  this  woman  is  in  truth  his  wife,  where  does 
Mrs.  Laura  Lyons  come  in? I  asked. 

"  That  is  one  of  the  points  upon  which  your  own 
researches  have  shed  a  light.  Your  interview  with 
the  lady  has  cleared  the  situation  very  much.  I  did 
not  know  about  a  projected  divorce  between  her- 
self and  her  husband.  In  that  case,  regarding  Sta- 
pleton  as  an  unmarried  man,  she  counted  no  doubt 
upon  becoming  his  wife." 

"  And  when  she  is  undeceived? 

"  Why,  then  we  may  find  the  lady  of  service.  It 
must  be  our  first  duty  to  see  her — both  of  us — to- 
morrow. Don't  you  think,  Watson,  that  you  are 
away  from  your  charge  rather  long?  Your  place 
should  be  at  Baskerville  Hall." 

The  last  red  streaks  had  faded  away  in  the  west 
and  night  had  settled  upon  the  moor.  A  few  faint 
stars  were  gleaming  in  a  violet  sky. 

"  One  last  question.  Holmes,"  I  said,  as  I  rose. 
"  Surely  there  is  no  need  of  secrecy  between  you 
and  me.  What  is  the  meaning  of  it  all?  What  is 
he  after?  " 

Holmes's  voice  sank  as  he  answered: — 

"  It  is  murder,  Watson — refined,  cold-blooded, 
deliberate  murder.  Do  not  ask  me  for  particulars. 
My  nets  are  closing  upon  him,  even  as  his  are  upon 
Sir  Henry,  and  with  your  help  he  is  already  almost 
at  my  mercy.  There  is  but  one  danger  which  can 
threaten  us.  It  is  that  he  should  strike  before  we 
are  ready  to  do  so.    Another  day — ^two  at  the  most 

i88 


DEATH    ON    THE  MOOR 

— and  I  have  my  case  complete,  but  until  then 
guard  your  charge  as  closely  as  ever  a  fond  mother 
watched  her  ailing  child.  Your  mission  to-day  has 
justified  itself,  and  yet  I  could  almost  wish  that  you 
had  not  left  his  side — Hark!  " 

A  terrible  scream — a  prolonged  yell  of  horror  and 
anguish  burst  out  of  the  silence  of  the  moor.  That 
frightful  cry  turned  the  blood  to  ice  in  my  veins. 

"  Oh,  my  God!  "  I  gasped.  What  is  it?  What 
does  it  mean?  " 

Holmes  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  I  saw  his 
dark,  athletic  outline  at  the  door  of  the  hut,  his 
shoulders  stooping,  his  head  thrust  forward,  his  face 
peering  into  the  darkness. 

"  Hush !  "  he  whispered.    "  Hush !  " 

The  cry  had  been  loud  on  account  of  its  vehe- 
mence, but  it  had  pealed  out  from  somewhere  far 
off  on  the  shadowy  plain.  Now  it  burst  upon  our 
ears,  nearer,  louder,  more  urgent  than  before. 

"Where  is  it?"  Holmes  whispered;  and  I  knew 
from  the  thrill  of  his  voice  that  he,  the  man  of 
iron,  was  shaken  to  the  soul.  "  Where  is  it,  Wat- 
son?" 

"  There,  I  think."  I  pointed  into  the  darkness. 
"No,  there!" 

Again  the  agonized  cry  swept  through  the  silent 
night,  louder  and  much  nearer  than  ever.  And  a 
new  sound  mingled  with  it,  a  deep,  muttered  rum- 
ble, musical  and  yet  menacing,  rising  and  falling  like 
the  low,  constant  murmur  of  the  sea. 

189 


THE   HOUND   OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  The  hound! cried  Holmes.  "  Come,  Watson, 
come!    Great  heavens,  if  we  are  too  late!  " 

He  had  started  running  swiftly  over  the  moor,  and 
I  had  followed  at  his  heels.  But  now  from  some- 
where among  the  broken  ground  immediately  in 
front  of  us  there  came  one  last  despairing  yell,  and 
then  a  dull,  heavy  thud.  We  halted  and  listened. 
Not  another  sound  broke  the  heavy  silence  of  the 
windless  night. 

I  saw  Holmes  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead  like 
a  man  distracted.  He  stamped  his  feet  upon  the 
ground. 

He  has  beaten  us,  Watson.    We  are  too  late." 
"No,  no,  surely  not!" 

"  Fool  that  I  was  to  hold  my  hand.  And  you, 
Watson,  see  what  comes  of  abandoning  your 
charge!  But,  by  Heaven,  if  the  worst  has  hap- 
pened, we'll  avenge  him! " 

Blindly  we  ran  through  the  gloom,  blundering 
against  boulders,  forcing  our  way  through  gorse 
bushes,  panting  up  hills  and  rushing  down  slopes, 
heading  always  in  the  direction  whence  those  dread- 
ful sounds  had  come.  At  every  rise  Holmes  looked 
eagerly  round  him,  but  the  shadows  were  thick  up- 
on the  moor,  and  nothing  moved  upon  its  dreary 
face. 

"  Can  you  see  anything?  " 
"Nothing." 

"  But,  hark,  what  is  that?  " 
A  low  moan  had  fallen  upon  our  ears.    There  it 

190 


DEATH    ON    THE  MOOR 


was  again  upon  our  left!  On  that  side  a  ridge  of 
rocks  ended  in  a  sheer  cliff  which  overlooked  a 
stone-strewn  slope.  On  its  jagged  face  was  spread- 
eagled  some  dark,  irregular  object.  As  we  ran 
towards  it  the  vague  outline  hardened  into  a  defi- 
nite shape.  It  was  a  prostrate  man  face  downwards 
upon  the  ground,  the  head  doubled  under  him  at 
a  horrible  angle,  the  shoulders  rounded  and  the 
body  hunched  together  as  if  in  the  act  of  throwing 
a  summersault.  So  grotesque  was  the  attitude  that 
I  could  not  for  the  instant  realise  that  that  moan 
had  been  the  passing  of  his  soul.  Not  a  whisper, 
not  a  rustle,  rose  now  from  the  dark  figure  over 
which  we  stooped.  Holmes  laid  his  hand  upon 
him,  and  held  it  up  again,  with  an  exclamation  of 
horror.  The  gleam  of  the  match  which  he  struck 
shone  upon  his  clotted  fingers  and  upon  the  ghastly 
pool  which  widened  slowly  from  the  crushed  skull 
of  the  victim.  And  it  shone  upon  something  else 
which  turned  our  hearts  sick  and  faint  within  us — 
the  body  of  Sir  Henry  Baskerville! 

There  was  no  chance  of  either  of  us  forgetting 
that  peculiar  ruddy  tweed  suit — the  very  one  which 
he  had  worn  on  the  first  morning  that  we  had  seen 
him  in  Baker  Street.  We  caught  the  one  clear 
glimpse  of  it,  and  then  the  match  flickered  and  went 
out,  even  as  the  hope  had  gone  out  of  our  souls. 
Holmes  groaned,  and  his  face  glimmered  white 
through  the  darkness. 

The  brute!  the  brute! "  I  cried,  with  clenched 

191 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

hands.  "  Oh,  Holmes,  I  shall  never  forgive  myself 
for  having  left  him  to  his  fate." 

"  I  am  more  to  blame  than  you,  Watson.  In  or- 
der to  have  my  case  well  rounded  and  complete,  I 
have  thrown  away  the  life  of  my  client.  It  is  the 
greatest  blow  which  has  befallen  me  in  my  career. 
But  how  could  I  know — how  could  I  know — that 
he  would  risk  his  life  alone  upon  the  moor  in  the 
face  of  all  my  warnings?  " 

"  That  we  should  have  heard  his  screams — my 
God,  those  screams! — and  yet  have  been  unable  to 
save  him!  Where  is  this  brute  of  a  hound  which 
drove  him  to  his  death?  It  may  be  lurking  among 
these  rocks  at  this  instant.  And  Stapleton,  where 
is  he?    He  shall  answer  for  this  deed." 

"  He  shall.  I  will  see  to  that.  Uncle  and 
nephew  have  been  murdered — the  one  frightened  to 
death  by  the  very  sight  of  a  beast  which  he  thought 
to  be  supernatural,  the  other  driven  to  his  end  in 
his  wild  flight  to  escape  from  it.  But  now  we  have 
to  prove  the  connection  between  the  man  and  the 
beast.  Save  from  what  we  heard,  we  cannot  even 
swear  to  the  existence  of  the  latter,  since  Sir  Henry 
has  evidently  died  from  the  fall.  But,  by  heavens, 
cunning  as  he  is,  the  fellow  shall  be  in  my  power 
before  another  day  is  past !  " 

We  stood  with  bitter  hearts  on  either  side  of  the 
mangled  body,  overwhelmed  by  this  sudden  and  ir- 
revocable disaster  which  had  brought  all  our  long 
and  weary  labours  to  so  piteous  an  end.    Then,  as 

192 


Ic  was  a  prostrate  man,  face  downwards. 


DEATH    ON    THE  MOOR 

the  moon  rose,  we  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  rocks 
over  which  our  poor  friend  had  fallen,  and  from  the 
summit  we  gazed  out  over  the  shadowy  moor,  half 
silver  and  half  gloom.  Far  away,  miles  of?,  in  the 
direction  of  Grimpen,  a  single  steady  yellow  light 
was  shining.  It  could  only  come  from  the  lonely 
abode  of  the  Stapletons.  With  a  bitter  curse  I 
shook  my  fist  at  it  as  I  gazed. 

"  Why  should  we  not  seize  him  at  once?  " 

"  Our  case  is  not  complete.  The  fellow  is  wary 
and  cunning  to  the  last  degree.  It  is  not  what  we 
know,  but  what  we  can  prove.  If  we  make  one 
false  move  the  villain  may  escape  us  yet." 

"  What  can  we  do? 

"  There  will  be  plenty  for  us  to  do  to-morrow. 
To-night  we  can  only  perform  the  last  offices  to  our 
poor  friend." 

Together  we  made  our  way  down  the  precipitous 
slope  and  approached  the  body,  black  and  clear 
against  the  silvered  stones.  The  agony  of  those 
contorted  limbs  struck  me  with  a  spasm  of  pain  and 
blurred  my  eyes  with  tears. 

"We  must  send  for  help.  Holmes!  We  cannot 
carry  him  all  the  way  to  the  Hall.  Good  heavens, 
are  you  mad?  " 

He  had  uttered  a  cry  and  bent  over  the  body. 
Now  he  was  dancing  and  laughing  and  wringing  my 
hand.  Could  this  be  my  stern,  self-contained 
friend?   These  were  hidden  fires,  indeed! 

''A  beard !   A  beard !   The  man  has  a  beard  I  " 


193 


THE   HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

"A  beard?'' 

"  It  is  not  the  baronet — it  is — ^why,  it  is  my 
neighbour,  the  convict! " 

With  feverish  haste  we  had  turned  the  body  over, 
and  that  dripping  beard  was  pointing  up  to  the  cold, 
clear  moon.  There  could  be  no  doubt  about  the 
beetling  forehead,  the  sunken  animal  eyes.  It  was, 
indeed,  the  same  face  which  had  glared  upon  me 
in  the  light  of  the  candle  from  over  the  rock — the 
face  of  Selden,  the  criminal. 

Then  in  an  instant  it  was  all  clear  to  me.  I  re- 
membered how  the  baronet  had  told  me  that  he 
had  handed  his  old  wardrobe  to  Barrymore.  Bar- 
rymore  had  passed  it  on  in  order  to  help  Selden 
in  his  escape.  Boots,  shirt,  cap — it  was  all  Sir 
Henry's.  The  tragedy  was  still  black  enough,  but 
this  man  had  at  least  deserved  death  by  the  laws 
of  his  country.  I  told  Holmes  how  the  matter 
stood,  my  heart  bubbling  over  with  thankfulness 
and  joy. 

"  Then  the  clothes  have  been  the  poor  devil's 
death,"  said  he.  "  It  is  clear  enough  that  the 
hound  has  been  laid  on  from  some  article  of  Sir 
Henry's — the  boot  which  was  abstracted  in  the 
hotel,  in  all  probability — and  so  ran  this  man  down. 
There  is  one  very  singular  thing,  however:  How 
came  Selden,  in  the  darkness,  to  know  that  the 
hound  was  on  his  trail?  " 

"  He  heard  him." 

"To  hear  a  hound  upon  the  moor  would  not 

194 


DEATH    ON    THE  MOOR 

work  a  hard  man  like  this  convict  into  such  a 
paroxysm  of  terror  that  he  would  risk  recapture  by 
screaming  wildly  for  help.  By  his  cries  he  must 
have  run  a  long  way  after  he  knew  the  animal  was 
on  his  track.    How  did  he  know?  " 

greater  mystery  to  me  is  why  this  hound, 

presuming  that  all  our  conjectures  are  correct  " 

I  presume  nothing." 
"  Well,  then,  why  this  hound  should  be  loose  to- 
night. I  suppose  that  it  does  not  always  run  loose 
upon  the  moor.  Stapleton  would  not  let  it  go  un- 
less he  had  reason  to  think  that  Sir  Henry  would 
be  there." 

"  My  difficulty  is  the  more  formidable  of  the  two, 
for  I  think  that  we  shall  very  shortly  get  an  ex- 
planation of  yours,  while  mine  may  remain  for  ever 
a  mystery.  The  question  now  is,  what  shall  we  do 
with  this  poor  wretch's  body?  We  cannot  leave  it 
here  to  the  foxes  and  the  ravens." 

I  suggest  that  we  put  it  in  one  of  the  huts  un- 
til we  can  communicate  with  the  police." 

"  Exactly.  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  and  I  could 
carry  it  so  far.  Halloa,  .  Watson,  what's  this?  It's 
the  man  himself,  by  all  that's  wonderful  and  auda- 
cious !  Not  a  word  to  show  your  suspicions — not  a 
word,  or  my  plans  crumble  to  the  ground." 

A  figure  was  approaching  us  over  the  moor,  and 
I  saw  the  dull  red  glow  of  a  cigar.  The  moon 
shone  upon  him,  and  I  could  distinguish  the 
dapper  shape  and  jaunty  walk  of  the  naturalist. 

195 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

He  stopped  when  he  saw  us,  and  then  came  on 
again. 

''Why,  Dr.  Watson,  that's  not  you,  is  it?  You 
are  the  last  man  that  I  should  have  expected  to 
see  out  on  the  moor  at  this  time  of  night.  But, 
dear  me,  what's  this?  Somebody  hurt?  Not — 
don't  tell  me  that  it  is  our  friend  Sir  Henry!  "  He 
hurried  past  me  and  stooped  over  the  dead  man. 
I  heard  a  sharp  intake  of  his  breath  and  the  cigar 
fell  from  his  fingers. 

"  Who — who's  this?  "  he  stammered. 

"  It  is  Selden,  the  man  who  escaped  from  Prince- 
town." 

Stapleton  turned  a  ghastly  face  upon  us,  but  by 
a  supreme  effort  he  had  overcome  his  amazement 
and  his  disappointment.  He  looked  sharply  from 
Holmes  to  me. 

Dear  me!  What  a  very  shocking  affair!  How 
did  he  die?  " 

*'  He  appears  to  have  broken  his  neck  by  falling 
over  these  rocks.  My  friend  and  I  were  strolling 
on  the  moor  when  we  heard  a  cry." 

''  I  heard  a  cry  also.  That  was  what  brought  me 
out.    I  was  uneasy  about  Sir  Henry." 

"  Why  about  Sir  Henry  in  particular?  "  I  could 
not  help  asking. 

"  Because  I  had  suggested  that  he  should  come 
over.  When  he  did  not  come  I  was  surprised,  and 
I  naturally  became  alarmed  for  his  safety  when  I 
heard  cries  upon  the  moor.    By  the  way  " — ^his  eyes 

196 


DEATH    ON    THE  MOOR 


darted  again  from  my  face  to  Holmes's — "  did  you 
hear  anything  else  besides  a  cry? 

"  No/'  said  Holmes;  "  did  you?  " 

"No/' 

What  do  you  mean,  then?  " 

Oh,  you  know  the  stories  that  the  peasants  tell 
about  a  phantom  hound,  and  so  on.  It  is  said  to 
be  heard  at  night  upon  the  moor.  I  was  wondering 
if  there  were  any  evidence  of  such  a  sound  to- 
night." 

"  We  heard  nothing  of  the  kind,''  said  L 
"  And  what  is  your  theory  of  this  poor  fellow's 
death?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  anxiety  and  exposure 
have  driven  him  off  his  head.  He  has  rushed  about 
the  moor  in  a  crazy  state  and  eventually  fallen  over 
here  and  broken  his  neck." 

"  That  seems  the  most  reasonable  theory,"  said 
Stapleton,  and  he  gave  a  sigh  which  I  took  to  indi- 
cate his  relief.  What  do  you  think  about  it,  Mr. 
Sherlock  Holmes?  " 

My  friend  bowed  his  compliments. 

"  You  are  quick  at  identification,"  said  he. 

"  We  have  been  expecting  you  in  these  parts 
since  Dr.  Watson  came  down.  You  are  in  time  to 
see  a  tragedy." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  I  have  no  doubt  that  my  friend's 
explanation  will  cover  the  facts.  I  will  take  an  un- 
pleasant remembrance  back  to  London  with  me  to- 
morrow.'* 

197 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  Oh,  you  return  to-morrow? 
That  is  my  intention." 

"  I  hope  your  visit  has  cast  some  light  upon  those 
occurrences  which  have  puzzled  us?  " 

Holmes  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  One  cannot  always  have  the  success  for  which 
one  hopes.  An  investigator  needs  facts,  and  not 
legends  or  rumours.  It  has  not  been  a  satisfactory 
case.'' 

My  friend  spoke  in  his  frankest  and  most  uncon- 
cerned manner.  Stapleton  still  looked  hard  at  him. 
Then  he  turned  to  me. 

"  I  would  suggest  carrying  this  poor  fellow  to 
my  house,  but  it  would  give  my  sister  such  a  fright 
that  I  do  not  feel  justified  in  doing  it.  I  think  that 
if  we  put  something  over  his  face  he  will  be  safe 
until  morning.'* 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  Resisting  Stapleton's 
offer  of  hospitality,  Holmes  and  I  set  ofif  to  Basker- 
ville  Hall,  leaving  the  naturalist  to  return  alone. 
Looking  back  we  saw  the  figure  moving  slowly 
away  over  the  broad  moor,  and  behind  him  that  one 
black  smudge  on  the  silvered  slope  which  showed 
where  the  man  was  lying  who  had  come  so  horribly 
to  his  end. 


198 


XIII 


Fixing  the  Nets 


E'RE  at  close  grips  at  last/'  said 
Holmes,  as  we  walked  together  across 
the  moor.      What  a  nerve  the  fellow 


has!  How  he  pulled  himself  together  in  the  face 
of  what  must  have  been  a  paralyzing  shock  when  he 
found  that  the  wrong  man  had  fallen  a  victim  to  his 
plot.  I  told  you  in  London,  Watson,  and  I  tell  you 
now  again,  that  we  have  never  had  a  foeman  more 
worthy  of  our  steel." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  he  has  seen  you." 

"And  so  was  I  at  first.  But  there  was  no  get- 
ting out  of  it." 

"  What  effect  do  you  think  it  will  have  upon  his 
plans,  now  that  he  knows  you  are  here?  " 

It  may  cause  him  to  be  more  cautious,  or  it  may 
drive  him  to  desperate  measures  at  once.  Like 
most  clever  criminals,  he  may  be  too  confident  in 
his  own  cleverness  and  imagine  that  he  has  com- 
pletely deceived  us." 

"  Why  should  we  not  arrest  him  at  once?  " 

"  My  dear  Watson,  yoti  were  born  to  be  a  man 
of  action.  Your  instinct  is  always  to  do  something 
energetic.  But  supposing,  for  argument's  sake, 
that  we  had  him  arrested  to-night,  what  on  earth 


199 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

the  better  off  should  we  be  for  that?  We  could 
prove  nothing  against  him.  There's  the  devilish 
cunning  of  it!  If  he  were  acting  through  a  human 
agent  we  could  get  some  evidence,  but  if  we  were 
to  drag  this  great  dog  to  the  light  of  day  it  would 
not  help  us  in  putting  a  rope  round  the  neck  of  its 
master/' 

"  Surely  we  have  a  case.'* 

"  Not  a  shadow  of  one — only  surmise  and  con- 
jecture. We  should  be  laughed  out  of  court  if  we 
came  with  such  a  story  and  such  evidence.'' 

"  There  is  Sir  Charles's  death." 

"  Found  dead  without  a  mark  upon  him.  You 
and  I  know  that  he  died  of  sheer  fright,  and  we 
know  also  what  frightened  him;  but  how  are  we  to 
get  twelve  stolid  jurymen  to  know  it?  What  signs 
are  there  of  a  hound?  Where  are  the  marks  of  its 
fangs?  Of  course,  we  know  that  a  hound  does  not 
bite  a  dead  body  and  that  Sir  Charles  was  dead  be- 
fore ever  the  brute  overtook  him.  But  we  have 
to  prove  all  this,  and  w;e  are  not  in  a  position  to 
do  it." 

"  Well,  then,  to-night?  " 

"  We  are  not  much  better  off  to-night.  Again, 
there  was  no  direct  connection  between  the  hound 
and  the  man's  death.  We  never  saw  the  hound. 
We  heard  it;  but  we  could  not  prove  that  it  was 
running  upon  this  man's  trail.  There  is  a  complete 
absence  of  motive.  No,  my  dear  fellow;  we  must 
reconcile  ourselves  to  the  fact  that  we  have  no  case 

200 


FIXING    THE  NETS 

at  present,  and  that  it  is  worth  our  while  to  run 
any  risk  in  order  to  establish  one." 

"  And  how  do  you  propose  to  do  so? 

"  I  have  great  hopes  of  what  Mrs.  Laura  Lyons 
may  do  for  us  when  the  position  of  affairs  is  made 
clear  to  her.  And  I  have  my  own  plan  as  well. 
Sufficient  for  to-morrow  is  the  evil  thereof;  but  I 
hope  before  the  day  is  past  to  have  the  upper  hand 
at  last." 

I  could  draw  nothing  further  from  him,  and  he 
walked,  lost  in  thought,  as  far  as  the  Baskerville 
gates. 

"  Are  you  coming  up?  " 

"Yes;  I  see  no  reason  for  further  concealment. 
But  one  last  word,  Watson.  Say  nothing  of  the 
hound  to  Sir  Henry.  Let  him  think  that  Selden's 
death  was  as  Stapleton  would  have  us  believe.  He 
will  have  a  better  nerve  for  the  ordeal  which  he  will 
have  to  undergo  to-morrow,  when  he  is  engaged, 
if  I  remember  your  report  aright,  to  dine  with  these 
people." 

"  And  so  am  L" 

"  Then  you  must  excuse  yourself  and  he  must 
go  alone.  That  will  be  easily  arranged.  And  now, 
if  we  are  too  late  for  dinner,  I  think  that  we  are 
both  ready  for  our  suppers." 

Sir  Henry  was  more  pleased  than  surprised  to  see 
Sherlock  Holmes,  for  he  had  for  some  days  been 
expecting  that  recent  events  would  bring  him  down 
from  London.    He  did  raise  his  eyebrows,  however, 

201 


THE    HOUND  OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

when  he  found  that  my  friend  had  neither  any  lug- 
gage nor  any  explanations  for  its  absence.  Be- 
tween us  we  soon  supplied  his  wants,  and  then  over 
a  belated  supper  we  explained  to  the  baronet  as 
much  of  our  experience  as  it  seemed  desirable  that 
he  should  know.  But  first  I  had  the  unpleasant 
duty  of  breaking  the  news  to  Barrymore  and  his 
wife.  To  him  it  may  have  been  an  unmitigated  re- 
lief, but  she  wept  bitterly  in  her  apron.  To  all  the 
world  he  was  the  man  of  violence,  half  animal  and 
half  demon;  but  to  her  he  always  remained  the  little 
wilful  boy  of  her  own  girlhood,  the  child  who  had 
clung  to  her  hand.  Evil  indeed  is  the  man  who 
has  not  one  woman  to  mourn  him. 

IVe  been  moping  in  the  house  all  day  since 
Watson  went  off  in  the  morning,''  said  the  baronet. 

I  guess  I  should  have  some  credit,  for  I  have  kept 
my  promise.  If  I  hadn't  sworn  not  to  go  about 
alone  I  might  have  had  a  more  lively  evening,  for  I 
had  a  message  from  Stapleton  asking  me  over 
there." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  would  have  had  a 
more  lively  evening,"  said  Holmes,  drily.  "  By  the 
way,  I  don't  suppose  you  appreciate  that  we  have 
been  mourning  over  you  as  having  broken  your 
neck?  " 

Sir  Henry  opened  his  eyes.    "  How  was  that?  " 
This  poor  wretch  was  dressed  in  your  clothes. 
I  fear  your  servant  who  gave  them  to  him  may  get 
into  trouble  with  the  police." 

202 


FIXING    THE  NETS 


"  That  is  unlikely.  There  was  no  mark  on  any 
of  them,  as  far  as  I  know/' 

"  That's  lucky  for  him — in  fact,  it's  lucky  for  all 
of  you,  since  you  are  all  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
law  in  this  matter.  I  am  not  sure  that  as  a  con- 
scientious detective  my  first  duty  is  not  to  arrest 
the  whole  household.  Watson's  reports  are  most 
incriminating  documents." 

"  But  how  about  the  case?  "  asked  the  baronet. 

Have  you  made  anything  out  of  the  tangle?  I 
don't  know  that  Watson  and  I  are  much  the  wiser 
since  we  came  down." 

I  think  that  I  shall  be  in  a  position  to  make  the 
situation  rather  more  clear  to  you  before  long.  It 
has  been  an  exceedingly  difficult  and  most  compli- 
cated business.  There  are  several  points  upon 
which  we  still  want  light — but  it  is  coming  all  the 
same." 

We've  had  one  experience,  as  Watson  has  no 
doubt  told  you.  We  heard  the  hound  on  the  moor, 
so  I  can  swear  that  it  is  not  all  empty  superstition. 
I  had  something  to  do  with  dogs  when  I  was  out 
West,  and  I  know  one  when  I  hear  one.  If  you  can 
muzzle  that  one  and  put  him  on  a  chain  I'll  be  ready 
to  swear  you  are  the  greatest  detective  of  all  time." 

"  I  think  I  will  muzzle  him  and  chain  him  all 
right  if  you  will  give  me  your  help." 

"  Whatever  you  tell  me  to  do  I  will  do." 

"Very  good;  and  I  will  ask  you  also  to  do  it 
blindly,  without  always  asking  the  reason." 

203 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


Just  as  you  like/' 
"  If  you  will  do  this  I  think  the  chances  are  that 
our  little  problem  will  soon  be  solved.    I  have  no 
doubt — ~" 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  stared  fixedly  up  over 
my  head  into  the  air.  The  lamp  beat  upon  his  face, 
and  so  intent  was  it  and  so  still  that  it  might  have 
been  that  of  a  clear-cut  classical  statue,  a  personifi- 
cation of  alertness  and  expectation. 

"What  is  it? ''we  both  cried. 

I  could  see  as  he  looked  down  that  he  was  re- 
pressing some  internal  emotion.  His  features  were 
still  composed,  but  his  eyes  shone  with  amused  ex- 
ultation. 

"  Excuse  the  admiration  of  a  connoisseur,"  said 
he,  as  he  waved  his  hand  towards  the  line  of  por- 
traits which  covered  the  opposite  wall.  "  Watson 
won't  allow  that  I  know  anything  of  art,  but  that  is 
mere  jealousy,  because  our  views  upon  the  subject 
differ.  Now,  these  are  a  really  very  fine  series  of 
portraits." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Sir 
Henry,  glancing  with  some  surprise  at  my  friend. 
"  I  don't  pretend  to  know  much  about  these  things, 
and  I'd  be  a  better  judge  of  a  horse  or  a  steer  than 
of  a  picture.  I  didn't  know  that  you  found  time  for 
such  things." 

"  I  know  what  is  good  when  I  see  it,  and  I  see 
it  now.  That's  a  Kneller,  I'll  swear,  that  lady  in 
the  blue  silk  over  yonder,  and  the  stout  gentleman 

204 


FIXING    THE  NETS 

with  the  wig  ought  to  be  a  Reynolds.    They  are  all 
family  portraits,  I  presume? 
Every  one." 

"  Do  you  know  the  names?  " 

"  Barrymore  has  been  coaching  me  in  them,  and 
I  think  I  can  say  my  lessons  fairly  well." 

"  Who  is  the  gentleman  with  the  telescope?  " 

"  That  is  Rear-Admiral  Baskerville,  who  served 
under  Rodney  in  the  West  Indies.  The  man  with 
the  blue  coat  and  the  roll  of  paper  is  Sir  William 
Baskerville,  who  was  Chairman  of  Committees  of 
the  House  of  Commons  under  Pitt." 

"  And  this  Cavalier  opposite  to  me — the  one  with 
the  black  velvet  and  the  lace?  " 

"  Ah,  you  have  a  right  to  know  about  him.  That 
is  the  cause  of  all  the  mischief,  the  wicked  Hugo, 
who  started  the  Hound  of  the  Baskervilles.  We're 
not  likely  to  forget  him." 

I  gazed  with  interest  and  some  surprise  upon  the 
portrait. 

"Dear  me!"  said  Holmes,  "he  seems  a  quiet, 
meek-mannered  man  enough,  but  I  daresay  that 
there  was  a  lurking  devil  in  his  eyes.  I  had  pict- 
ured him  as  a  more  robust  and  ruffianly  person." 

"  There's  no  doubt  about  the  authenticity,  for  the 
name  and  the  date,  1647,  on  the  back  of  the 
canvas." 

Holmes  said  little  more,  but  the  picture  of  the 
old  roysterer  seemed  to  have  a  fascination  for  him, 
and  his  eyes  were  continually  fixed  upon  it  during 

205 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

supper.  It  was  not  until  later,  when  Sir  Henry  had 
gone  to  his  room,  that  I  was  able  to  follow  the 
trend  of  his  thoughts.  He  led  me  back  into  the 
banqueting-hall,  his  bedroom  candle  in  his  hand, 
and  he  held  it  up  against  the  time-stained  portrait 
on  the  wall. 

Do  you  see  anything  there?  " 

I  looked  at  the  broad  plumed  hat,  the  curling 
love-locks,  the  white  lace  collar,  and  the  straight, 
severe  face  which  was  framed  between  them.  It 
was  not  a  brutal  countenance,  but  it  was  prim,  hard, 
and  stern,  with  a  firm-set,  thin-lipped  mouth,  and 
a  coldly  intolerant  eye. 

"  Is  it  like  anyone  you  know?  " 

"  There  is  something  of  Sir  Henry  about  the 
jaw. 

"Just  a  suggestion,  perhaps.  But  wait  an  in- 
stant!'' He  stood  upon  a  chair,  and  holding  up 
the  light  in  his  left  hand  he  curved  his  right  arm 
over  the  broad  hat  and  round  the  long  ringlets. 

"  Good  heavens!  "  I  cried,  in  amazement. 

The  face  of  Stapleton  had  sprung  out  of  the  can- 
vas. 

"  Ha,  you  see  it  now.  My  eyes  have  been  trained 
to  examine  faces  and  not  their  trimmings.  It  is  the 
first  quality  of  a  criminal  investigator  that  he  should 
see  through  a  disguise." 

But  this  is  marvellous.  It  might  be  his  por- 
trait." 

"  Yes,  it  is  an  interesting  instance  of  a  throw- 

206 


He  stood  upon  a  chair,  and  curved  his  right  arm 
over  the  broad  hat  and  round  the 
long;  rindets. 


FIXING    THE  NETS 


back,  which  appears  to  be  both  physical  and  spir- 
itual.   A  study  of  family  portraits  is  enough  to  con- 
vert a  man  to  the  doctrine  of  reincarnation.  The 
fellow  is  a  Baskerville — that  is  evident." 
With  designs  upon  the  succession." 

"  Exactly.  This  chance  of  the  picture  has  sup- 
plied us  with  one  of  our  most  obvious  missing  links. 
We  have  him,  Watson,  we  have  him,  and  I  dare 
swear  that  before  to-morrow  night  he  will  be  flut- 
tering in  our  net  as  helpless  as  one  of  his  own  but- 
terflies. A  pin,  a  cork,  and  a  card,  and  we  add  him 
to  the  Baker  Street  collection ! "  He  burst  into 
one  of  his  rare  fits  of  laughter  as  he  turned  away 
from  the  picture.  I  have  not  heard  him  laugh  of- 
ten, and  it  has  always  boded  ill  to  somebody. 

I  was  up  betimes  in  the  morning,  but  Holmes 
was  afoot  earlier  still,  for  I  saw  him  as  I  dressed 
coming  up  the  drive. 

"  Yes,  we  should  have  a  full  day  to-day,"  he  re- 
marked, and  he  rubbed  his  hands  with  the  joy  of 
action.  "  The  nets  are  all  in  place,  and  the  drag 
is  about  to  begin.  We'll  know  before  the  day  is  out 
whether  we  have  caught  our  big,  lean-jawed  pike, 
or  whether  he  has  got  through  the  meshes." 

"  Have  you  been  on  the  moor  already?  " 

"  I  have  sent  a  report  from  Grimpen  to  Prince- 
town  as  to  the  death  of  Selden.  I  think  I  can 
promise  that  none  of  you  will  be  troubled  in  the 
matter.  And  I  have  also  communicated  with  my 
faithful  Cartwright,  who  would  certainly  have  pined 

207 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BA8KERVILLES 


away  at  the  door  of  my  hut,  as  a  dog  does  at  his 
master's  grave,  if  I  had  not  set  his  mind  at  rest  about 
my  safety." 

"  What  is  the  next  move? 

"  To  see  Sir  Henry.    Ah,  here  he  is! 
Good  morning.  Holmes,''  said  the  baronet. 
"  You  look  like  a  general  who  is  planning  a  battle 
with  his  chief  of  the  staff." 

"  That  is  the  exact  situation.  Watson  was  ask- 
ing for  orders." 

"  And  so  do  I." 

"  Very  good.  You  are  engaged,  as  I  under- 
stand, to  dine  with  our  friends  the  Stapletons  to- 
night." 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  come  also.  They  are  very 
hospitable  people,  and  I  am  sure  that  they  would 
be  very  glad  to  see  you." 

"  I  fear  that  Watson  and  I  must  go  to  London." 

^^To  London?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  we  should  be  more  useful 
there  at  the  present  juncture." 

The  baronet's  face  perceptibly  lengthened. 

"  I  hoped  that  you  were  going  to  see  me  through 
this  business.  The  Hall  and  the  moor  are  not  very 
pleasant  places  when  one  is  alone." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  must  trust  me  implicitly 
and  do  exactly  what  I  tell  you.  You  can  tell  your 
friends  that  we  should  have  been  happy  to  have 
come  with  you,  but  that  urgent  business  required  us 
to  be  in  town.    We  hope  very  soon  to  return  to 

208 


FIXING    THE  NETS 


Devonshire.  Will  you  remember  to  give  them  that 
message?  " 

"  If  you  insist  upon  it/* 

"  There  is  no  alternative,  I  assure  you." 

I  saw  by  the  baronet's  clouded  brow  that  he  was 
deeply  hurt  by  what  he  regarded  as  our  desertion. 

"  When  do  you  desire  to  go?  "  he  asked,  coldly. 

"  Immediately  after  breakfast.  We  will  drive  in 
to  Coombe  Tracey,  but  Watson  will  leave  his  things 
as  a  pledge  that  he  will  come  back  to  you.  Wat- 
son, you  will  send  a  note  to  Stapleton  to  tell  him 
that  you  regret  that  you  cannot  come." 

"  I  have  a  good  mind  to  go  to  London  with  you," 
said  the  baronet.  "Why  should  I  stay  here  alone?" 

"  Because  it  is  your  post  of  duty.  Because  you 
gave  me  your  word  that  you  would  do  as  you  were 
told,  and  I  tell  you  to  stay." 

"  All  right,  then,  Til  stay." 
One  more  direction !    I  wish  you  to  drive  to 
Merripit  House.    Send  back  your  trap,  however, 
and  let  them  know  that  you  intend  to  walk  home." 

"  To  walk  across  the  moor?  " 
Yes." 

"  But  that  is  the  very  thing  which  you  have  so 
often  cautioned  me  not  to  do." 

"  This  time  you  may  do  it  with  safety.  If  I  had 
not  every  confidence  in  your  nerve  and  courage  I 
would  not  suggest  it,  but  it  is  essential  that  you 
should  do  it." 

"  Then  I  will  do  it/' 

209 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

"  And  as  you  value  your  life  do  not  go  across  the 
moor  in  any  direction  save  along  the  straight  path 
which  leads  from  Merripit  House  to  the  Grimpen 
Road,  and  is  your  natural  way  home." 

"  I  will  do  just  what  you  say." 
Very  good.    I  should  be  glad  to  get  away  as 
soon  after  breakfast  as  possible,  so  as  to  reach  Lon- 
don in  the  afternoon." 

I  was  much  astounded  by  this  programme, 
though  I  remembered  that  Holmes  had  said  to  Sta- 
pleton  on  the  night  before  that  his  visit  would 
terminate  next  day.  It  had  not  crossed  my  mind, 
however,  that  he  would  wish  me  to  go  with  him, 
nor  could  I  understand  how  we  could  both  be  ab- 
sent at  a  moment  which  he  himself  declared  to  be 
critical.  There  was  nothing  for  it,  however,  but 
implicit  obedience;  so  we  bade  good-bye  to  our  rue- 
ful friend,  and  a  couple  of  hours  afterwards  we  were 
at  the  station  of  Coombe  Tracey  and  had  dispatched 
the  trap  upon  its  return  journey.  A  small  boy  was 
waiting  upon  the  platform. 

"  Any  orders,  sir?  " 

"  You  will  take  this  train  to  town,  Cartwright. 
The  moment  you  arrive  you  will  send  a  wire  to  Sir 
Henry  Baskerville,  in  my  name,  to  say  that  if  he 
finds  the  pocket-book  which  I  have  dropped  he  is 
to  send  it  by  registered  post  to  Baker  Street." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  ask  at  the  station  office  if  there  is  a  mes- 
sage for  me." 

2IO 


FIXING    THE  NETS 


The  boy  returned  with  a  telegram,  which  Holmes 
handed  to  me.  It  ran:  ''Wire  received.  Coming 
down  with  unsigned  warrant.  Arrive  five-forty. — 
Lestrade." 

That  is  in  answer  to  mine  of  this  morning.  He 
is  the  best  of  the  professionals,  I  think,  and  we  may 
need  his  assistance.  Now,  Watson,  I  think  that  we 
cannot  employ  our  time  better  than  by  calling  upon 
your  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Laura  Lyons." 

His  plan  of  campaign  was  beginning  to  be  evi- 
dent. He  would  use  the  baronet  in  order  to  con- 
vince the  Stapletons  that  we  were  really  gone,  while 
we  should  actually  return  at  the  instant  when  we 
were  likely  to  be  needed.  That  telegram  from 
London,  if  mentioned  by  Sir  Henry  to  the  Staple- 
tons,  must  remove  the  last  suspicions  from  their 
minds.  Already  I  seemed  to  see  our  nets  drawing 
closer  round  that  lean-jawed  pike. 

Mrs.  Laura  Lyons  was  in  her  office,  and  Sherlock 
Holmes  opened  his  interview  with  a  frankness  and 
directness  which  considerably  amazed  her. 

"  I  am  investigating  the  circumstances  which  at- 
tended the  death  of  the  late  Sir  Charles  Basker- 
ville,"  said  he.  "  My  friend  here,  Dr.  Watson,  has 
informed  me  of  what  you  have  communicated,  and 
also  of  what  you  have  withheld  in  connection  with 
that  matter." 

"What  have  I  withheld?"  she  asked,  defiantly. 

"  You  have  confessed  that  you  asked  Sir  Charles 
to  be  at  the  gate  at  ten  o'clock.    We  know  that 

•  Zll 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

that  was  the  place  and  hour  of  his  death.  You  have 
withheld  what  the  connection  is  between  these 
events/' 

"  There  is  no  connection." 

"  In  that  case  the  coincidence  must  indeed  be  an 
extraordinary  one.  But  I  think  that  we  shall  suc- 
ceed in  establishing  a  connection  after  all.  I  wish 
to  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  Mrs.  Lyons.  We 
regard  this  case  as  one  of  murder,  and  the  evidence 
may  implicate  not  only  your  friend  Mr.  Stapleton, 
but  his  wife  as  well." 

The  lady  sprang  from  her  chair. 
His  wife!  "  she  cried. 

"  The  fact  is  no  longer  a  secret.  The  person 
who  has  passed  for  his  sister  is  really  his  wife." 

Mrs.  Lyons  had  resumed  her  seat.  Her  hands 
were  grasping  the  arms  of  her  chair,  and  I  saw  that 
the  pink  nails  had  turned  white  with  the  pressure 
of  her  grip. 

"His  wife!"  she  said,  again.  "His  wife!  He 
is  not  a  married  man." 

Sherlock  Holmes  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Prove  it  to  me!    Prove  it  to  me!    And  if  you 

can  do  so  ! "    The  fierce  flash  of  her  eyes  said 

more  than  any  words. 

"  I  have  come  prepared  to  do  so,"  said  Holmes, 
drawing  several  papers  from  his  pocket.  "  Here  is 
a  photograph  of  the  couple  taken  in  York  four 
years  ago.  It  is  indorsed  ^  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vande- 
leur,'  but  you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  recognising 

213 


FIXING    THE  NETS 

him,  and  her  also,  if  you  know  her  by  sight.  Here 
are  three  written  descriptions  by  trustworthy  wit- 
nesses of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vandeleur,  who  at  that  time 
kept  St.  Oliver's  private  school.  Read  them,  and 
see  if  you  can  doubt  the  identity  of  these  people.'' 

She  glanced  at  them,  and  then  looked  up  at  us 
with  the  set,  rigid  face  of  a  desperate  woman. 

"  Mr.  Holmes,"  she  said,  "  this  man  had  offered 
me  marriage  on  condition  that  I  could  get  a  divorce 
from  my  husband.  He  has  lied  to  me,  the  villain, 
in  every  conceivable  way.  Not  one  word  of  truth 
has  he  ever  told  me.  And  why — why?  I  imag- 
ined that  all  was  for  my  own  sake.  But  now  I  see 
that  I  was  never  anything  but  a  tool  in  his  hands. 
Why  should  I  preserve  faith  with  him  who  never 
kept  any  with  me?  Why  should  I  try  to  shield  him 
from  the  consequences  of  his  own  wicked  acts? 
Ask  me  what  you  like,  and  there  is  nothing  which 
I  shall  hold  back.  One  thing  I  swear  to  you,  and 
that  is,  that  when  I  wrote  the  letter  I  never  dreamed 
of  any  harm  to  the  old  gentleman,  who  had  been 
my  kindest  friend." 

"  I  entirely  believe  you,  madam,"  said  Sherlock 
Holmes.  The  recital  of  these  events  must  be 
very  painful  to  you,  and  perhaps  it  will  make  it 
easier  if  I  tell  you  what  occurred,  and  you  can  check 
me  if  I  make  any  material  mistake.  The  sending 
of  this  letter  was  suggested  to  you  by  Stapleton?  " 

"  He  dictated  it." 
I  presume  that  the  reason  he  gave  was  that  you 

213 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

would  receive  help  from  Sir  Charles  for  the  legal 
expenses  connected  with  your  divorce? 
"  Exactly." 

And  then  after  you  had  sent  the  letter  he  dis- 
suaded you  from  keeping  the  appointment?'' 

He  told  me  that  it  would  hurt  his  self-respect 
that  any  other  man  should  find  the  money  for  such 
an  object,  and  that  though  he  was  a  poor  man  him- 
self he  would  devote  his  last  penny  to  removing  the 
obstacles  which  divided  us." 

He  appears  to  be  a  very  consistent  character. 
And  then  you  heard  nothing  until  you  read  the  re- 
ports of  the  death  in  the  paper?  " 
"  No." 

And  he  made  you  swear  to  say  nothing  about 
your  appointment  with  Sir  Charles?  " 

He  did.  He  said  that  the  death  was  a  very 
mysterious  one,  and  that  I  should  certainly  be  sus- 
pected if  the  facts  came  out.  He  frightened  me 
into  remaining  silent." 

Quite  so.    But  you  had  your  suspicions?  " 
She  hesitated  and  looked  down. 
"  I  knew  him,"  she  said.    "  But  if  he  had  kept 
faith  with  me  I  should  always  have  done  so  with 
him." 

"  I  think  that  on  the  whole  you  have  had  a  fortu- 
nate escape,"  said  Sherlock  Holmes.  You  have 
had  him  in  your  power  and  he  knew  it,  and  yet  you 
are  alive.  You  have  been  walking  for  some  months 
very  near  to  the  edge  of  a  precipice.    We  must 

214 


FIXING    THE  NETS 


wish  you  good  morning  now,  Mrs.  Lyons,  and  it  is 
probable  that  you  will  very  shortly  hear  from  us 
again." 

"  Our  case  becomes  rounded  ofif,  and  difficulty 
after  difficulty  thins  away  in  front  of  us,"  said 
Holmes,  as  we  stood  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the 
express  from  town.  I  shall  soon  be  in  the  posi- 
tion of  being  able  to  put  into  a  single  connected 
narrative  one  of  the  most  singular  and  sensational 
crimes  of  m_odern  times.  Students  of  criminology 
will  remember  the  analogous  incidents  in  Godno, 
in  Little  Russia,  in  the  year  '66,  and  of  course  there 
are  the  Anderson  miurders  in  North  Carolina,  but 
this  case  possesses  some  features  which  are  entirely 
its  ov/n.  Even  now  we  have  no  clear  case  against 
this  very  wily  man.  But  I  shall  be  very  much  sur- 
prised if  it  is  not  clear  enough  before  we  go  to  bed 
this  night." 

The  London  express  came  roaring  into  the  sta- 
tion, and  a  small,  wiry  bulldog  of  a  man  had  sprung 
from  a  first-class  carriage.  We  all  three  shook 
hands,  and  I  saw  at  once  from  the  reverential  way 
in  which  Lestrade  gazed  at  my  companion  that  he 
had  learned  a  good  deal  since  the  days  when  they 
had  first  worked  together.  I  could  well  remember 
the  scorn  which  the  theories  of  the  reasoner  used 
then  to  excite  in  the  practical  man. 

"  Anything  good?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  biggest  thing  for  years,"  said  Holmes, 
"  We  have  two  hours  before  we  need  think  of  start- 

215 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


ing.  I  think  we  might  employ  it  in  getting  some 
dinner,  and  then,  Lestrade,  we  will  take  the  London 
fog  out  of  your  throat  by  giving  you  a  breath  of 
the  pure  night  air  of  Dartmoor.  Never  been  there? 
Ah,  well,  I  don't  suppose  you  will  forget  your  first 
visit/' 


XIV 


The  Hound  of  the  Baskervilles 

ONE  of  Sherlock  Holmes's  defects — if,  in- 
deed, one  may  call  it  a  defect — was  that  he 
was  exceedingly  loth  to  communicate  his 
full  plans  to  any  other  person  until  the  instant  of 
their  fulfilment.  Partly  it  came  no  doubt  from  his 
own  masterful  nature,  which  loved  to  dominate  and 
surprise  those  who  were  around  him.  Partly  also 
from  his  professional  caution,  which  urged  him 
never  to  take  any  chances.  The  result,  however, 
was  very  trying  for  those  who  were  acting  as  his 
agents  and  assistants.  I  had  often  suffered  under 
it,  but  never  more  so  than  during  that  long  drive  in 
the  darkness.  The  great  ordeal  was  in  front  of  us; 
at  last  we  were  about  to  make  our  final  effort,  and 
yet  Holmes  had  said  nothing,  and  I  could  only  sur- 
mise what  his  course  of  action  would  be.  My 
nerves  thrilled  with  anticipation  when  at  last  the 
cold  wind  upon  our  faces  and  the  dark,  void  spaces 
on  either  side  of  the  narrow  road  told  me  that  we 
were  back  upon  the  moor  once  again.  Every  stride 
of  the  horses  and  every  turn  of  the  wheels  was  tak- 
ing us  nearer  to  our  supreme  adventure. 

Our  conversation  was  hampered  by  the  presence 
of  the  driver  of  the  hired  wagonette,  so  that  we  were 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

forced  to  talk  of  trivial  matters  when  our  nerves 
were  tense  with  emotion  and  anticipation.  It  was  a 
relief  to  me,  after  that  unnatural  restraint,  when  we 
at  last  passed  Frankland's  house  and  knew  that  we 
were  drawing  near  to  the  Hall  and  to  the  scene  of 
action.  We  did  not  drive  up  to  the  door,  but  got 
down  near  the  gate  of  the  avenue.  The  wagonette 
was  paid  off  and  ordered  to  return  to  Coombe 
Tracey  forthwith,  while  we  started  to  walk  to  Mer- 
ripit  House. 

"  Are  you  armed,  Lestrade?  " 

The  little  detective  smiled. 

"As  long  as  I  have  my  trousers  I  have  a  hip- 
pocket,  and  as  long  as  I  have  my  hip-pocket  I  have 
something  in  it." 

''Good!  My  friend  and  I  are  also  ready  for 
emergencies." 

"  You're  mighty  close  about  this  affair,  Mr. 
Holmes.    What's  the  game  now?  " 

"  A  waiting  game." 

"  My  word,  it  does  not  seem  a  very  cheerful 
place,"  said  the  detective,  with  a  shiver,  glancing 
round  him  at  the  gloomy  slopes  of  the  hill  and 
at  the  huge  lake  of  fog  which  lay  over  the  Grim- 
pen  Mire.  "  I  see  the  lights  of  a  house  ahead  of 
us." 

"  That  is  Merripit  House  and  the  end  of  our  jour- 
ney. I  must  request  you  to  walk  on  tiptoe  and 
not  to  talk  above  a  whisper." 

We  moved  cautiously  along  the  track  as  if  we 

218 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

were  bound  for  the  house,  but  Holmes  halted  us 
when  we  were  about  two  hundred  yards  from  it. 

This  will  do/'  said  he.  "  These  rocks  upon  the 
right  make  an  admirable  screen." 
We  are  to  wait  here? 
"  Yes,  we  shall  make  our  little  ambush  here.  Get 
into  this  hollow,  Lestrade.  You  have  been  inside 
the  house,  have  you  not,  Watson?  Can  you  tell 
the  position  of  the  rooms?  What  are  those  latticed 
windows  at  this  end?  " 

"  I  think  they  are  the  kitchen  windows.'' 
"  And  the  one  beyond,  which  shines  so  bright- 
ly?" 

"  That  is  certainly  the  dining-room." 

"  The  blinds  are  up.  You  know  the  lie  of  the 
land  best.  Creep  forward  quietly  and  see  what  they 
are  doing — but  for  heaven's  sake  don't  let  them 
know  that  they  are  watched!  " 

I  tiptoed  down  the  path  and  stooped  behind  the 
low  wall  which  surrounded  the  stunted  orchard. 
Creeping  in  its  shadow  I  reached  a  point  whence  I 
could  look  straight  through  the  uncurtained  win- 
dow. 

There  were  only  two  men  in  the  room,  Sir  Henry 
and  Stapleton.  They  sat  with  their  profiles  tow- 
ards me  on  either  side  of  the  round  table.  Both  of 
them  were  smoking  cigars,  and  coffee  and  wine  were 
in  front  of  them.  Stapleton  was  talking  with  ani- 
mation, but  the  baronet  looked  pale  and  distrait. 
Perhaps  the  thought  of  that  lonely  walk  across  the 

219 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

ill-omened  moor  was  weighing  heavily  upon  his 
mind. 

As  I  watched  them  Stapleton  rose  and  left  the 
room,  while  Sir  Henry  filled  his  glass  again  and 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  puffing  at  his  cigar.  I 
heard  the  creak  of  a  door  and  the  crisp  sound  of 
boots  upon  gravel.  The  steps  passed  along  the 
path  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  under  which  I 
crouched.  Looking  over,  I  saw  the  naturalist 
pause  at  the  door  of  an  out-house  in  the  corner  of 
the  orchard.  A  key  turned  in  a  lock,  and  as  he 
passed  in  there  was  a  curious  scuffling  noise  from 
within.  He  was  only  a  minute  or  so  inside,  and 
then  I  heard  the  key  turn  once  more  and  he  passed 
me  and  re-entered  the  house.  I  saw  him  rejoin  his 
guest,  and  I  crept  quietly  back  to  where  my  com- 
panions were  waiting  to  tell  them  what  I  had 
seen. 

"  You  say,  Watson,  that  the  lady  is  not  there? 
Holmes  asked,  when  I  had  finished  my  report. 
"  No." 

"  Where  can  she  be,  then,  since  there  is  no  light 
in  any  other  room  except  the  kitchen? 

"  I  cannot  think  where  she  is." 

I  have  said  that  over  the  great  Grimpen  Mire 
there  hung  a  dense,  white  fog.  It  was  drifting 
slowly  in  our  direction  and  banked  itself  up  like  a 
wall  on  that  side  of  us,  low,  but  thick  and  well  de- 
fined. The  moon  shone  on  it,  and  it  looked  like  a 
great  shimmering  icefield,  with  the  heads  of  the 

220 


THE   HOUND    OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

distant  tors  as  rocks  borne  upon  its  surface. 
Holmes's  face  was  turned  towards  it,  and  he  mut- 
tered impatiently  as  he  watched  its  sluggish  drift. 

"  It's  moving  towards  us,  Watson." 

"  Is  that  serious?  " 

"  Very  serious,  indeed — the  one  thing  upon  earth 
which  could  have  disarranged  my  plans.  He  can't 
be  very  long,  now.  It  is  already  ten  o'clock.  Our 
success  and  even  his  life  may  depend  upon  his  com- 
ing out  before  the  fog  is  over  the  path." 

The  night  was  clear  and  fine  above  us.  The 
stars  shone  cold  and  bright,  while  a  half-moon 
bathed  the  whole  scene  in  a  soft,  uncertain  light. 
Before  us  lay  the  dark  bulk  of  the  house,  its  serrated 
roof  and  bristling  chimneys  hard  outlined  against 
the  silver-spangled  sky.  Broad  bars  of  golden  light 
from  the  lower  windows  stretched  across  the 
orchard  and  the  moor.  One  of  them  was  suddenly 
shut  off.  The  servants  had  left  the  kitchen.  There 
only  remained  the  lamp  in  the  dining-room  where 
the  two  men,  the  murderous  host  and  the  uncon- 
scious guest,  still  chatted  over  their  cigars. 

Every  minute  that  white  woolly  plain  which  cov- 
ered one  half  of  the  moor  was  drifting  closer  and 
closer  to  the  house.  Already  the  first  thin  wisps  of 
it  were  curling  across  the  golden  square  of  the 
lighted  window.  The  farther  wall  of  the  orchard 
was  already  invisible,  and  the  trees  were  standing 
out  of  a  swirl  of  white  vapour.  As  we  watched  it 
the  fog-wreaths  came  crawling  round  both  corners 

2Zl 


THE    HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

of  the  house  and  rolled  slowly  into  one  dense  bank, 
on  which  the  upper  floor  and  the  roof  floated  like 
a  strange  ship  upon  a  shadowy  sea.  Holmes  struck 
his  hand  passionately  upon  the  rock  in  front  of  us, 
and  stamped  his  feet  in  his  impatience. 

"  If  he  isn't  out  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  path 
will  be  covered.  In  half  an  hour  we  won't  be  able 
to  see  our  hands  in  front  of  us." 

Shall  we  move  farther  back  upon  higher 
ground? " 

Yes,  I  think  it  would  be  as  well." 

So  as  the  fog-bank  flowed  onwards  we  fell  back 
before  it  until  we  were  half  a  mile  from  the  house, 
and  still  that  dense  white  sea,  with  the  moon  silver- 
ing its  upper  edge,  swept  slowly  and  inexorably  on. 

We  are  going  too  far,"  said  Holmes.  We 
dare  not  take  the  chance  of  his  being  overtaken  be- 
fore he  can  reach  us.  At  all  costs  we  must  hold 
our  ground  where  we  are."  He  dropped  on  his 
knees  and  clapped  his  ear  to  the  ground.  "  Thank 
God,  I  think  that  I  hear  him  coming." 

A  sound  of  quick  steps  broke  the  silence  of  the 
moor.  Crouching  among  the  stones  we  stared  in- 
tently at  the  silver-tipped  bank  in  front  of  us.  The 
steps  grew  louder,  and  through  the  fog,  as  through 
a  curtain,  there  stepped  the  man  whom  we  were 
awaiting.  He  looked  round  him  in  surprise  as  he 
emerged  into  the  clear,  star-lit  night.  Then  he 
came  swiftly  along  the  path,  passed  close  to  where 
we  lay,  and  went  on  up  the  long  slope  behind  us. 

232 


The  steps  grew  louder,  and  through  the  fog,  as 
through  a  curtain,  there  stepped  the  man 
whom  we  were  awaiting. 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 


As  he  walked  he  glanced  continually  over  either 
shoulder,  like  a  man  who  is  ill  at  ease. 

"Hist!"  cried  Holmes,  and  I  heard  the  sharp 
click  of  a  cocking  pistol.  "  Look  out!  It's  com- 
ing!" 

There  was  a  thin,  crisp,  continuous  patter  from 
somewhere  in  the  heart  of  that  crawling  bank.  The 
cloud  was  within  fifty  yards  of  where  we  lay,  and 
we  glared  at  it,  all  three,  uncertain  what  horror 
was  about  to  break  from  the  heart  of  it.  I  was  at 
Holmes's  elbow,  and  I  glanced  for  an  instant  at  his 
face.  It  was  pale  and  exultant,  his  eyes  shining 
brightly  in  the  moonlight.  But  suddenly  they 
started  forward  in  a  rigid,  fixed  stare,  and  his  lips 
parted  in  amazement.  At  the  same  instant  Le- 
strade  gave  a  yell  of  terror  and  threw  himself  face 
downwards  upon  the  ground.  I  sprang  to  my  feet, 
my  inert  hand  grasping  my  pistol,  my  mind  par- 
alyzed by  the  dreadful  shape  which  had  sprung  out 
upon  us  from  the  shadows  of  the  fog.  A  hound  it 
was,  an  enormous  coal-black  hound,  but  not  such 
a  hound  as  mortal  eyes  have  ever  seen.  Fire  burst 
from  its  open  mouth,  its  eyes  glowed  with  a  smoul- 
dering glare,  its  muzzle  and  hackles  and  dewlap 
were  outlined  in  flickering  flame.  Never  in  the  de- 
lirious dream  of  a  disordered  brain  could  anything 
more  savage,  more  appalling,  more  hellish  be  con- 
ceived than  that  dark  form  and  savage  face  which 
broke  upon  us  out  of  the  wall  of  fog. 

With  long  bounds  the  huge  black  creature  was 

223 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

leaping  down  the  track,  following  hard  upon  the 
footsteps  of  our  friend.  So  paralyzed  were  we  by 
the  apparition  that  we  allowed  him  to  pass  before 
we  had  recovered  our  nerve.  Then  Holmes  and  I 
both  fired  together,  and  the  creature  gave  a  hideous 
howl,  which  showed  that  one  at  least  had  hit  him. 
He  did  not  pause,  however,  but  bounded  onwards. 
Far  away  on  the  path  we  saw  Sir  Henry  looking 
back,  his  face  white  in  the  moonlight,  his  hands 
raised  in  horror,  glaring  helplessly  at  the  frightful 
thing  which  was  hunting  him  down. 

But  that  cry  of  pain  from  the  hound  had  blown 
all  our  fears  to  the  winds.  If  he  was  vulnerable  he 
was  mortal,  and  if  we  could  wound  him  we  could 
kill  him.  Never  have  I  seen  a  man  run  as  Holmes 
ran  that  night.  I  am  reckoned  fleet  of  foot,  but  he 
outpaced  me  as  much  as  I  outpaced  the  little  pro- 
fessional. In  front  of  us  as  we  flew  up  the  track 
we  heard  scream  after  scream  from  Sir  Henry  and 
the  deep  roar  of  the  hound.  I  was  in  time  to  see 
the  beast  spring  upon  its  victim,  hurl  him  to  the 
ground,  and  worry  at  his  throat.  But  the  next  in- 
stant Holmes  had  emptied  five  barrels  of  his  re- 
volver into  the  creature's  flank.  With  a  last  howl 
of  agony  and  a  vicious  snap  in  the  air,  it  rolled  upon 
its  back,  four  feet  pawing  furiously,  and  then  fell 
limp  upon  its  side.  I  stooped,  panting,  and  pressed 
my  pistol  to  the  dreadful,  shimmering  head,  but  it 
was  useless  to  press  the  trigger.  The  giant  hound 
was  dead. 

224 


THE   HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

Sir  Henry  lay  insensible  where  he  had  fallen. 
We  tore  away  his  collar,  and  Holmes  breathed  a 
prayer  of  gratitude  when  we  saw  that  there  was  no 
sign  of  a  wound  and  that  the  rescue  had  been  in 
time.  Already  our  friend's  eyelids  shivered  and  he 
made  a  feeble  effort  to  move.  Lestrade  thrust  his 
brandy-flask  between  the  baronet's  teeth,  and  two 
frightened  eyes  were  looking  up  at  us. 

*^My  God!"  he  whispered.  What  was  it? 
What,  in  Heaven's  name,  was  it?  " 

It's  dead,  whatever  it  is,"  said  Holmes. 
"  We've  laid  the  family  ghost  once  and  for  ever." 

In  mere  size  and  strength  it  was  a  terrible  creat- 
ure which  was  lying  stretched  before  us.  It  was 
not  a  pure  bloodhound  and  it  was  not  a  pure 
mastifif;  but  it  appeared  to  be  a  combination  of  the 
two — gaunt,  savage,  and  as  large  as  a  small  lioness. 
Even  now,  in  the  stillness  of  death,  the  huge  jaws 
seemed  to  be  dripping  with  a  bluish  flame  and  the 
small,  deep-set,  cruel  eyes  were  ringed  with  fire.  I 
placed  my  hand  upon  the  glowing  muzzle,  and  as 
I  held  them  up  my  own  fingers  smouldered  and 
gleamed  in  the  darkness. 
Phosphorus,"  I  said. 

"  A  cunning  preparation  of  it,"  said  Holmes, 
sniffing  at  the  dead  animal.  ^'  There  is  no  smell 
which  might  have  interfered  with  his  power  of 
scent.  We  owe  you  a  deep  apology.  Sir  Henry, 
for  having  exposed  you  to  this  fright.  I  was  pre- 
pared for  a  hound,  but  not  for  such  a  creature  as 

.  225 


THE    HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

this.  And  the  fog  gave  us  little  time  to  receive 
him/' 

You  have  saved  my  life." 
Having  first  endangered  it.    Are  you  strong 
enough  to  stand? 

"  Give  me  another  mouthful  of  that  brandy  and 
I  shall  be  ready  for  anything.  So!  Now,  if  you 
will  help  me  up.    What  do  you  propose  to  do?  " 

To  leave  you  here.  You  are  not  fit  for  further 
adventures  to-night.  If  you  will  wait,  one  or  other 
of  us  will  go  back  with  you  to  the  Hall.'' 

He  tried  to  stagger  to  his  feet;  but  he  was  still 
ghastly  pale  and  trembling  in  every  limb.  We 
helped  him  to  a  rock,  where  he  sat  shivering  with 
his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

"  We  must  leave  you  now,"  said  Holmes.  "  The 
rest  of  our  work  must  be  done,  and  every  moment 
is  of  importance.  We  have  our  case,  and  now  we 
only  want  our  man. 

It's  a  thousand  to  one  against  our  finding  him 
at  the  house,"  he  continued,  as  we  retraced  our 
steps  swiftly  down  the  path.  Those  shots  must 
have  told  him  that  the  game  was  up." 

"  We  were  some  distance  off,  and  this  fog  may 
have  deadened  them." 

"  He  followed  the  hound  to  call  him  of? — of  that 
you  may  be  certain.  No,  no,  he's  gone  by  this 
time!    But  we'll  search  the  house  and  make  sure." 

The  front  door  was  open,  so  we  rushed  in  and 
hurried  from  room  to  room,  to  the  amazement  of  a 

226 


THE    HOUND    OF    THE  BASKERVILLES 

doddering  old  manservant,  who  met  us  in  the 
passage.  There  was  no  light  save  in  the  dining- 
room,  but  Holmes  caught  up  the  lamp  and  left  no 
corner  of  the  house  unexplored.  No  sign  could 
we  see  of  the  man  whom  we  were  chasing.  On  the 
upper  floor,  however,  one  of  the  bedroom  doors  was 
locked. 

There's  someone  in  here,"  cried  Lestrade.  "  I 
can  hear  a  movement.    Open  this  door! " 

A  faint  moaning  and  rustling  came  from  within. 
Holmes  struck  the  door  just  over  the  lock  with  the 
flat  of  his  foot  and  it  flew  open.  Pistol  in  hand,  we 
all  three  rushed  into  the  room. 

But  there  was  no  sign  within  it  of  that  desperate 
and  defiant  villain  whom  we  expected  to  see.  In- 
stead we  were  faced  by  an  object  so  strange  and  so 
•  unexpected  that  we  stood  for  a  moment  staring  at 
it  in  amazement. 

The  room  had  been  fashioned  into  a  small  mu- 
seum, and  the  walls  were  lined  by  a  number  of 
glass-topped  cases  full  of  that  collection  of  butter- 
flies and  moths  the  formation  of  which  had  been 
the  relaxation  of  this  complex  and  dangerous  man. 
In  the  centre  of  this  room  there  was  an  upright 
beam,  which  had  been  placed  at  some  period  as  a 
support  for  the  old  worm-eaten  balk  of  timber 
which  spanned  the  roof.  To  this  post  a  figure  was 
tied,  so  swathed  and  muffled  in  the  sheets  which 
had  been  used  to  secure  it  that  one  could  not  for 
the  moment  tell  whether  it  was  that  of  a  man  or  a 

227 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

woman.  One  towel  passed  round  the  throat  and 
was  secured  at  the  back  of  the  pillar.  Another  cov- 
ered the  lower  part  of  the  face,  and  over  it  two  dark 
eyes — eyes  full  of  grief  and  shame  and  a  dreadful 
questioning — stared  back  at  us.  In  a  minute  we 
had  torn  oflf  the  gag,  unswathed  the  bonds,  and 
Mrs.  Stapleton  sank  upon  the  floor  in  front  of  us. 
As  her  beautiful  head  fell  upon  her  chest  I  saw  the 
clear  red  weal  of  a  whiplash  across  her  neck. 
'  The  brute!  "  cried  Holmes.  "  Here,  Lestrade, 
your  brandy-bottle!  Put  her  in  the  chair!  She 
has  fainted  from  ill-usage  and  exhaustion." 

She  opened  her  eyes  again. 

"  Is  he  safe?    she  asked.    "  Has  he  escaped?  " 
He  cannot  escape  us,  madam." 

"  No,  no,  I  did  not  mean  my  husband.  Sir 
Henry?    Is  he  safe?  " 

^^Yes." 

"  And  the  hound?  " 
"  It  is  dead." 

She  gave  a  long  sigh  of  satisfaction. 

"Thank  God!  Thank  God!  Oh,  this  villain! 
See  how  he  has  treated  me! "  She  shot  her  arms 
out  from  her  sleeves,  and  we  saw  with  horror  that 
they  were  all  mottled  with  bruises.  "  But  this  is 
nothing — nothing !  It  is  my  mind  and  soul  that  he 
has  tortured  and  defiled.  I  could  endure  it  all,  ill- 
usage,  solitude,  a  life  of  deception,  everything,  as 
long  as  I  could  still  cling  to  the  hope  that  I  had 
his  love,  but  now  I  know  that  in  this  also  I  have 

228 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

been  his  dupe  and  his  tool/'  She  broke  into  pas- 
sionate sobbing  as  she  spoke. 

"  You  bear  him  no  good  will,  madam/'  said 
Holmes.  Tell  us  then  where  we  shall  find  him. 
If  you  have  ever  aided  him  in  evil,  help  us  now  and 
so  atone." 

"  There  is  but  one  place  where  he  can  have  fled/' 
she  answered.  "  There  is  an  old  tin  mine  on  an 
island  in  the  heart  of  the  Mire.  It  was  there  that 
he  kept  his  hound  and  there  also  he  had  made 
preparations  so  that  he  might  have  a  refuge.  That 
is  where  he  would  fly." 

The  fog-bank  lay  like  white  wool  against  the  win- 
dow.   Holmes  held  the  lamp  towards  it. 

See/'  said  he.  No  one  could  find  his  way 
into  the  Grimpen  Mire  to-night." 

She  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands.  Her  eyes 
and  teeth  gleamed  with  fierce  merriment. 

"  He  may  find  his  way  in,  but  never  out,"  she 
cried.  "  How  can  he  see  the  guiding  wands  to- 
night? We  planted  them  together,  he  and  I,  to 
mark  the  pathway  through  the  mire.  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  have  plucked  them  out  to-day.  Then 
indeed  you  would  have  had  him  at  your  mercy! " 

It  was  evident  to  us  that  all  pursuit  was  in  vain 
until  the  fog  had  lifted.  Meanwhile  we  left  Le- 
strade  in  possession  of  the  house  while  Holmes  and 
I  went  back  with  the  baronet  to  Baskerville  Hall. 
The  story  of  the  Stapletons  could  no  longer  be  with- 
held from  him,  but  he  took  the  blow  bravely  when 

229 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

he  learned  the  truth  about  the  woman  whom  he  had 
loved.  But  the  shock  of  the  night's  adventures 
had  shattered  his  nerves,  and  before  morning  he 
lay  delirious  in  a  high  fever,  under  the  care  of  Dr. 
Mortimer.  The  two  of  them  were  destined  to 
travel  together  round  the  world  before  Sir  Henry 
had  become  once  more  the  hale,  hearty  man  that 
he  had  been  before  he  became  master  of  that  ill- 
omened  estate. 

And  now  I  come  rapidly  to  the  conclusion  of  this 
singular  narrative,  in  which  I  have  tried  to  make 
the  reader  share  those  dark  fears  and  vague  sur- 
mises which  clouded  our  lives  so  long,  and  ended 
in  so  tragic  a  manner.  On  the  morning  after  the 
death  of  the  hound  the  fog  had  lifted  and  we  were 
guided  by  Mrs.  Stapleton  to  the  point  where  they 
had  found  a  pathway  through  the  bog.  It  helped 
us  to  realize  the  horror  of  this  woman's  life  when 
we  saw  the  eagerness  and  joy  with  which  she  laid 
us  on  her  husband's  track.  We  left  her  standing 
upon  the  thin  peninsula  of  firm,  peaty  soil  which 
tapered  out  into  the  widespread  bog.  From  the 
end  of  it  a  small  wand  planted  here  and  there 
showed  where  the  path  zig-zagged  from  tuft  to  tuft 
of  rushes  among  those  green-scummed  pits  and  foul 
quagmires  which  barred  the  way  to  the  stranger. 
Rank  reeds  and  lush,  slimy  water-plants  sent  an 
odour  of  decay  and  a  heavy  miasmatic  vapour  into 
our  faces,  while  a  false  step  plunged  us  more  than 

230 


THE  HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

once  thigh-deep  into  the  dark,  quivering  mire, 
which  shook  for  yards  in  soft  undulations  around 
our  feet.  Its  tenacious  grip  plucked  at  our  heels 
as  we  walked,  and  when  we  sank  into  it  it  was  as 
if  some  malignant  hand  was  tugging  us  down  into 
those  obscene  depths,  so  grim  and  purposeful  was 
the  clutch  in  which  it  held  us.  Once  only  we  saw 
a  trace  that  someone  had  passed  that  perilous  way 
before  us.  From  amid  a  tuft  of  cotton-grass  which 
bore  it  up  out  of  the  slime  some  dark  thing  was 
projecting.  Holmes  sank  to  his  waist  as  he  stepped 
from  the  path  to  seize  it,  and  had  we  not  been  there 
to  drag  him  out  he  could  never  have  set  his  foot 
upon  firm  land  again.  He  held  an  old  black  boot 
in  the  air.  Meyers,  Toronto,''  was  printed  on  the 
leather  inside. 

"  It  is  worth  a  mud  bath,"  said  he.  "  It  is  our 
friend  Sir  Henry's  missing  boot." 

"  Thrown  there  by  Stapleton  in  his  flight." 

"  Exactly.  He  retained  it  in  his  hand  after  using 
it  to  set  the  hound  upon  the  track.  He  fled  when 
he  knew  the  game  was  up,  still  clutching  it.  And 
he  hurled  it  away  at  this  point  of  his  flight.  We 
know  at  least  that  he  came  so  far  in  safety." 

But  more  than  that  we  were  never  destined  to 
know,  though  there  was  much  which  we  might  sur- 
mise. There  was  no  chance  of  finding  footsteps  in 
the  mire,  for  the  rising  mud  oozed  swiftly  in  upon 
them,  but  as  we  at  last  reached  firmer  ground  be- 
yond the  morass  we  all  looked  eagerly  for  them. 

231 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

But  no  slightest  sign  of  them  ever  met  our  eyes. 
If  the  earth  told  a  true  story,  then  Stapleton  never 
reached  that  island  of  refuge  towards  which  he 
struggled  through  the  fog  upon  that  last  night. 
Somewhere  in  the  heart  of  the  great  Grimpen  Mire, 
down  in  the  foul  slime  of  the  huge  morass  which 
had  sucked  him  in,  this  cold  and  cruel-hearted  man 
is  for  ever  buried. 

Many  traces  we  found  of  him  in  the  bog-girt  isl- 
and where  he  had  hid  his  savage  ally.  A  huge  driv- 
ing-wheel and  a  shaft  half-filled  with  rubbish  showed 
the  position  of  an  abandoned  mine.  Beside  it  were 
the  crumbling  remains  of  the  cottages  of  the  miners, 
driven  away  no  doubt  by  the  foul  reek  of  the  sur- 
rounding swamp.  In  one  of  these  a  staple  and 
chain  with  a  quantity  of  gnawed  bones  showed 
where  the  animal  had  been  confined.  A  skeleton 
with  a  tangle  of  brown  hair  adhering  to  it  lay  among 
the  debris, 

"A  dog!"  said  Holmes.  "By  Jove,  a  curly- 
haired  spaniel.  Poor  Mortimer  will  never  see  his 
pet  again.  Well,  I  do  not  know  that  this  place  con- 
tains any  secret  which  we  have  not  already  fath- 
omed. He  could  hide  his  hound,  but  he  could  not 
hush  its  voice,  and  hence  came  those  cries  which 
even  in  daylight  were  not  pleasant  to  hear.  On  an 
emergency  he  could  keep  the  hound  in  the  out- 
house at  Merripit,  but  it  was  always  a  risk,  and  it 
was  only  on  the  supreme  day,  which  he  regarded 
as  the  end  of  all  his  efforts,  that  he  dared  do  it. 

232 


THE    HOUND  OP  THE  BASKERVILLES 

This  paste  in  the  tin  is  no  doubt  the  luminous  mixt- 
ure with  which  the  creature  was  daubed.  It  was 
suggested,  of  course,  by  the  story  of  the  family  hell- 
hound, and  by  the  desire  to  frighten  old  Sir  Charles 
to  death.  No  wonder  the  poor  devil  of  a  convict 
ran  and  screamed,  even  as  our  friend  did,  and  as 
we  ourselves  might  have  done,  when  he  saw  such 
a  creature  bounding  through  the  darkness  of  the 
moor  upon  his  track.  It  was  a  cunning  device,  for, 
apart  from  the  chance  of  driving  your  victim  to  his 
death,  what  peasant  would  venture  to  inquire  too 
closely  into  such  a  creature  should  he  get  sight  of 
it,  as  many  have  done,  upon  the  moor?  I  said  it 
in  London,  Watson,  and  I  say  it  again  now,  that 
never  yet  have  we  helped  to  hunt  down  a  more  dan- 
gerous man  than  he  who  is  lying  yonder — he 
swept  his  long  arm  towards  the  huge  mottled  ex- 
panse of  green-splotched  bog  which  stretched  away 
until  it  merged  into  the  russet  slopes  of  the  moor. 


233 


j. 


XV 

A  Retrospection 

IT  was  the  end  of  November,  and  Holmes  and 
I  sat,  upon  a  raw  and  foggy  night,  on  either 
side  of  a  blazing  fire  in  our  sitting-room  in 
Baker  Street.  Since  the  tragic  upshot  of  our  visit 
to  Devonshire  he  had  been  engaged  in  two  afifairs 
of  the  utmost  importance,  in  the  first  of  which  he 
had  exposed  the  atrocious  conduct  of  Colonel  Up- 
wood  in  connection  with  the  famous  card  scandal 
of  the  Nonpareil  Club,  while  in  the  second  he  had 
defended  the  unfortunate  Mme.  Montpensier  from 
the  charge  of  murder  which  hung  over  her  in  con- 
nection with  the  death  of  her  step-daughter.  Mile. 
Carere,  the  young  lady  who,  as  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, was  found  six  months  later  alive  and  married 
in  New  York.  My  friend  was  in  excellent  spirits 
over  the  success  which  had  attended  a  succession  of 
difficult  and  important  cases,  so  that  I  was  able  to 
induce  him  to  discuss  the  details  of  the  Baskerville 
mystery.  I  had  waited  patiently  for  the  opportu- 
nity, for  I  was  aware  that  he  would  never  permit 
cases  to  overlap,  and  that  his  clear  and  logical  mind 
would  not  be  drawn  from  its  present  work  to  dwell 
upon  memories  of  the  past.  Sir  Henry  and  Dr. 
Mortimer  were,  however,  in  London,  on  their  way 

234 


A  RETROSPECTION 


to  that  long  voyage  which  had  been  recommended 
for  the  restoration  of  his  shattered  nerves.  They 
had  called  upon  us  that  very  afternoon,  so  that  it 
was  natural  that  the  subject  should  come  up  for 
discussion. 

"  The  whole  course  of  events,"  said  Holmes, 
"  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  man  who  called  him- 
self Stapleton  was  simple  and  direct,  although  to 
us,  who  had  no  means  in  the  beginning  of  knowing 
the  motives  of  his  actions  and  could  only  learn  part 
of  the  facts,  it  all  appeared  exceedingly  complex. 
I  have  had  the  advantage  of  two  conversations  with 
Mrs.  Stapleton,  and  the  case  has  now  been  so  en- 
tirely cleared  up  that  I  am  not  aware  that  there  is 
anything  which  has  remained  a  secret  to  us.  You 
will  find  a  few  notes  upon  the  matter  under  the 
heading  B  in  my  indexed  Hst  of  cases." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  kindly  give  me  a  sketch  of 
the  course  of  events  from  memory." 

Certainly,  though  I  cannot  guarantee  that  I 
carry  all  the  facts  in  my  mind.  Intense  mental  con- 
centration has  a  curious  way  of  blotting  out  what 
has  passed.  The  barrister  who  has  his  case  at  his 
fingers'  end,  and  is  able  to  argue  with  an  expert 
upon  his  own  subject,  finds  that  a  week  or  two  of 
the  courts  will  drive  it  all  out  of  his  head  once  more. 
So  each  of  my  cases  displaces  the  last,  and  Mile. 
Carere  has  blurred  my  recollection  of  Baskerville 
Hall.  To-morrow  some  other  little  problem  may 
be  submitted  to  my  notice  which  will  in  turn  dis- 

235 


THE   HOUND    OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

possess  the  fair  French  lady  and  the  infamous  Up- 
wood.  So  far  as  the  case  of  the  Hound  goes,  how- 
ever, I  will  give  you  the  course  of  events  as  nearly 
as  I  can,  and  you  will  suggest  anything  which  I  may 
have  forgotten. 

"  My  inquiries  show  beyond  all  question  that  the 
family  portrait  did  not  lie,  and  that  this  fellow  was 
indeed  a  Baskerville.  He  was  a  son  of  that  Rodger 
Baskerville,  the  younger  brother  of  Sir  Charles,  who 
fled  with  a  sinister  reputation  to  South  America, 
where  he  was  said  to  have  died  unmarried.  He  did, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  marry,  and  had  one  child,  this 
fellow,  whose  real  name  is  the  same  as  his  father. 
He  married  Beryl  Gar9ia,  one  of  the  beauties  of 
Costa  Rica,  and,  having  purloined  a  considerable 
sum  of  public  money,  he  changed  his  name  to  Van- 
deleur  and  fled  to  England,  where  he  established  a 
school  in  the  east  of  Yorkshire.  His  reason  for  at- 
tempting this  special  line  of  business  was  that  he 
had  struck  up  an  acquaintance  with  a  consumptive 
tutor  upon  the  voyage  home,  and  that  he  had  used 
this  man's  ability  to  make  the  undertaking  a  suc- 
cess. Fraser,  the  tutor,  died,  however,  and  the 
school  which  had  begun  well  sank  from  disrepute 
into  infamy.  The  Vandeleurs  found  it  convenient 
to  change  their  name  to  Stapleton,  and  he  brought 
the  remains  of  his  fortune,  his  schemes  for  the 
future,  and  his  taste  for  entomology  to  the  south  of 
England.  I  learn  at  the  British  Museum  that  he 
was  a  recognised  authority  upon  the  subject,  and 

236 


A  RETROSPECTION 


that  the  name  of  Vandeleur  has  been  permanently 
attached  to  a  certain  moth  which  he  had,  in  his 
Yorkshire  days,  been  the  first  to  describe. 

"  We  now  come  to  that  portion  of  his  life  which 
has  proved  to  be  of  such  intense  interest  to  us.  The 
fellow  had  evidently  made  inquiry,  and  found  that 
only  two  lives  intervened  between  him  and  a  valu- 
able estate.  When  he  went  to  Devonshire  his  plans 
were,  I  believe,  exceedingly  hazy,  but  that  he  meant 
mischief  from  the  first  is  evident  from  the  way  in 
which  he  took  his  wife  with  him  in  the  character  of 
his  sister.  The  idea  of  using  her  as  a  decoy  was 
clearly  already  in  his  mind,  though  he  may  not  have 
been  certain  how  the  details  of  his  plot  were  to  be 
arranged.  He  meant  in  the  end  to  have  the  es- 
tate, and  he  was  ready  to  use  any  tool  or  run 
any  risk  for  that  end.  His  first  act  was  to  es- 
tablish himself  as  near  to  his  ancestral  home  as 
he  could,  and  his  second  was  to  cultivate  a  friend- 
ship with  Sir  Charles  Baskerville  and  with  the 
neighbours. 

"  The  baronet  himself  told  him  about  the  family 
hound,  and  so  prepared  the  way  for  his  own  death. 
Stapleton,  as  I  will  continue  to  call  him,  knew  that 
the  old  man's  heart  was  weak  and  that  a  shock 
would  kill  him.  So  much  he  had  learned  from  Dr. 
Mortimer.  He  had  heard  also  that  Sir  Charles  was 
superstitious  and  had  taken  this  grim  legend  very 
seriously.  His  ingenious  mind  instantly  suggested 
a  way  by  which  the  baronet  could  be  done  to  death, 

237 


THE   HOUND   OF   THE  BASKERVILLES 

and  yet  it  would  be  hardly  possible  to  bring  home 
the  guilt  to  the  real  murderer. 

Having  conceived  the  idea  he  proceeded  to 
carry  it  out  with  considerable  finesse.  An  ordinary 
schemer  would  have  been  content  to  work  with  a 
savage  hound.  The  use  of  artificial  means  to  make 
the  creature  diabolical  was  a  flash  of  genius  upon 
his  part.  The  dog  he  bought  in  London  from  Ross 
and  Mangles,  the  dealers  in  Fulham  Road.  It  was 
the  strongest  and  most  savage  in  their  possession. 
He  brought  it  down  by  the  North  Devon  line  and 
walked  a  great  distance  over  the  moor  so  as  to  get 
it  home  without  exciting  any  remarks.  He  had  al- 
ready on  his  insect  hunts  learned  to  penetrate  the 
Grimpen  Mire,  and  so  had  found  a  safe  hiding-place 
for  the  creature.  Here  he  kennelled  it  and  waited 
his  chance. 

"  But  it  was  some  time  coming.  The  old  gentle- 
man could  not  be  decoyed  outside  of  his  grounds 
at  night.  Several  times  Stapleton  lurked  about 
with  his  hound,  but  without  avail.  It  was  during 
these  fruitless  quests  that  he,  or  rather  his  ally,  was 
seen  by  peasants,  and  that  the  legend  of  the  demon 
dog  received  a  new  confirmation.  He  had  hoped 
that  his  wife  might  lure  Sir  Charles  to  his  ruin,  but 
here  she  proved  unexpectedly  independent.  She 
would  not  endeavour  to  entangle  the  old  gentleman 
in  a  sentimental  attachment  which  might  deliver 
him  over  to  his  enemy.  Threats  and  even,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  blows  refused  to  move  her.  She 

238 


A  RETROSPECTION 

would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  for  a  time 
Stapleton  was  at  a  deadlock. 

"  He  found  a  way  out  of  his  difficulties  through 
the  chance  that  Sir  Charles,  who  had  conceived  a 
friendship  for  him,  made  him  the  minister  of  his 
charity  in  the  case  of  this  unfortunate  woman,  Mrs. 
Laura  Lyons.  By  representing  himself  as  a  single 
man  he  acquired  complete  influence  over  her,  and 
he  gave  her  to  understand  that  in  the  event  of  her 
obtaining  a  divorce  from  her  husband  he  would 
marry  her.  His  plans  were  suddenly  brought  to  a 
head  by  his  knowledge  that  Sir  Charles  was  about 
to  leave  the  Hall  on  the  advice  of  Dr.  Mortimer, 
with  whose  opinion  he  himself  pretended  to  coin- 
cide. He  must  act  at  once,  or  his  victim  might  get 
beyond  his  power.  He  therefore  put  pressure  upon 
Mrs.  Lyons  to  write  this  letter,  imploring  the  old 
man  to  give  her  an  interview  on  the  evening  before 
his  departure  for  London.  He  then,  by  a  specious 
argument,  prevented  her  from  going,  and  so  had 
the  chance  for  which  he  had  waited. 

"  Driving  back  in  the  evening  from  Coombe 
Tracey  he  was  in  time  to  get  his  hound,  to  treat  it 
with  his  infernal  paint,  and  to  bring  the  beast  round 
to  the  gate  at  which  he  had  reason  to  expect  that 
he  would  find  the  old  gentleman  waiting.  The 
dog,  incited  by  its  master,  sprang  over  the  wicket- 
gate  and  pursued  the  unfortunate  baronet,  who  fled 
screaming  down  the  Yew  Alley.  In  that  gloomy 
tunnel  it  must  indeed  have  been  a  dreadful  sight  to 

239 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

see  that  huge  black  creature,  with  its  flaming  jaws 
and  blazing  eyes,  bounding  after  its  victim.  He 
fell  dead  at  the  end  of  the  alley  from  heart  disease 
and  terror.  The  hound  had  kept  upon  the  grassy 
border  while  the  baronet  had  run  down  the  path, 
so  that  no  track  but  the  man's  was  visible.  On 
seeing  him  lying  still  the  creature  had  probably  ap- 
proached to  sniff  at  him,  but  finding  him  dead  had 
turned  away  again.  It  was  then  that  it  left  the 
print  which  was  actually  observed  by  Dr.  Mortimer. 
The  hound  was  called  off  and  hurried  away  to  its 
lair  in  the  Grimpen  Mire,  and  a  mystery  was  left 
which  puzzled  the  authorities,  alarmed  the  country- 
side, and  finally  brought  the  case  within  the  scope 
of  our  observation. 

"  So  much  for  the  death  of  Sir  Charles  Basker- 
ville.  You  perceive  the  devilish  cunning  of  it,  for 
really  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  make  a  case 
against  the  real  murderer.  His  only  accomplice 
was  one  who  could  never  give  him  away,  and  the 
grotesque,  inconceivable  nature  of  the  device  only 
served  to  make  it  more  effective.  Both  of  the 
women  concerned  in  the  case,  Mrs.  Stapleton  and 
Mrs.  Laura  Lyons,  were  left  with  a  strong  suspicion 
against  Stapleton.  Mrs.  Stapleton  knew  that  he 
had  designs  upon  the  old  man,  and  also  of  the  ex- 
istence of  the  hound.  Mrs.  Lyons  knew  neither  of 
these  things,  but  had  been  impressed  by  the  death 
occurring  at  the  time  of  an  uncancelled  appointment 
which  was  only  known  to  him.    However,  both  of 

240 


A  RETROSPECTION 


them  were  under  his  influence,  and  he  had  nothing 
to  fear  from  them.  The  first  half  of  his  task  was 
successfully  accomplished,  but  the  more  difficult 
still  remained. 

"  It  is  possible  that  Stapleton  did  not  know  of 
the  existence  of  an  heir  in  Canada.  In  any  case  he 
would  very  soon  learn  it  from  his  friend  Dr.  Morti- 
mer, and  he  was  told  by  the  latter  all  details  about 
the  arrival  of  Henry  Baskerville.  Stapleton's  first 
idea  was  that  this  young  stranger  from  Canada 
might  possibly  be  done  to  death  in  London  with- 
out coming  down  to  Devonshire  at  all.  He  dis- 
trusted his  wife  ever  since  she  had  refused  to  help 
him  in  laying  a  trap  for  the  old  man,  and  he  dared 
not  leave  her  long  out  of  his  sight  for  fear  he  should 
lose  his  influence  over  her.  It  was  for  this  reason 
that  he  took  her  to  London  with  him.  They 
lodged,  I  find,  at  the  Mexborough  Private  Hotel, 
in  Craven  Street,  which  was  actually  one  of  those 
called  upon  by  my  agent  in  search  of  evidence. 
Here  he  kept  his  wife  imprisoned  in  her  room  while 
he,  disguised  in  a  beard,  followed  Dr.  Mortimer  to 
Baker  Street  and  afterwards  to  the  station  and  to 
the  Northumberland  Hotel.  His  wife  had  some 
inkling  of  his  plans;  but  she  had  such  a  fear  of  her 
husband — a  fear  founded  upon  brutal  ill-treatment 
— that  she  dare  not  write  to  warn  the  man  whom 
she  knew  to  be  in  danger.  If  the  letter  should  fall 
into  Stapleton's  hands  her  own  life  would  not  be 
safe.    Eventually,  as  we  know,  she  adopted  the  ex- 

241 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

pedient  of  cutting  out  the  words  which  would  form 
the  message,  and  addressing  the  letter  in  a  disguised 
hand.  It  reached  the  baronet,  and  gave  him  the 
first  warning  of  his  danger. 

"  It  was  very  essential  for  Stapleton  to  get  some 
article  of  Sir  Henry's  attire  so  that,  in  case  he  was 
driven  to  use  the  dog,  he  might  always  have  the 
;  means  of  setting  him  upon  his  track.  With  char- 
acteristic promptness  and  audacity  he  set  about  this 
at  once,  and  we  cannot  doubt  that  the  boots  or 
chambermaid  of  the  hotel  was  well  bribed  to  help 
him  in  his  design.  By  chance,  however,  the  fi'rst 
boot  which  was  procured  for  him  was  a  new  one 
and,  therefore,  useless  for  his  purpose.  He  then 
had  it  returned  and  obtained  another — a  most  in- 
structive incident,  since  it  proved  conclusively  to  my 
mind  that  we  were  dealing  with  a  real  hound,  as  no 
other  supposition  could  explain  this  anxiety  to  ob- 
tain an  old  boot  and  this  indiflference  to  a  new  one. 
The  more  outre  and  grotesque  an  incident  is  the 
more  carefully  it  deserves  to  be  examined,  and  the 
very  point  which  appears  to  complicate  a  case  is, 
when  duly  considered  and  scientifically  handled,  the 
one  which  is  most  likely  to  elucidate  it. 

Then  we  had  the  visit  from  our  friends  next 
morning,  shadowed  always  by  Stapleton  in  the  cab. 
From  his  knowledge  of  our  rooms  and  of  my  ap- 
pearance, as  well  as  from  his  general  conduct,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  Stapleton's  career  of  crime 
has  been  by  no  means  limited  to  this  single  Basker- 

242 


A  RETROSPECTION 


ville  affair.  It  is  suggestive  that  during  the  last 
three  years  there  have  been  four  considerable  bur- 
glaries in  the  West  Country,  for  none  of  v^hich  was 
any  criminal  ever  arrested.  The  last  of  these,  at 
Folkestone  Court,  in  May,  v^as  remarkable  for  the 
colJ-blooded  pistoling  of  the  page,  v^ho  surprised 
the  masked  and  solitary  burglar.  I  cannot  doubt 
that  Stapleton  recruited  his  waning  resources  in 
this  fashion,  and  that  for  years  he  has  been  a  des- 
perate and  dangerous  man. 

"  We  had  an  example  of  his  readiness  of  resource 
that  morning  when  he  got  away  from  us  so  success- 
fully, and  also  of  his  audacity  in  sending  back  my 
own  name  to  me  through  the  cabman.  From  that 
moment  he  understood  that  I  had  taken  over  the 
case  in  London,  and  that  therefore  there  was  no 
chance  for  him  there.  He  returned  to  Dartmoor 
and  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  baronet." 

"  One  moment!  "  said  I.  "  You  have,  no  doubt, 
described  the  sequence  of  events  correctly,  but  there 
is  one  point  which  you  have  left  unexplained.  What 
became  of  the  hound  when  its  master  was  in  Lon- 
don? " 

"  I  have  given  some  attention  to  this  matter  and 
it  is  undoubtedly  of  importance.  There  can  be  no 
question  that  Stapleton  had  a  confidant,  though  it 
is  unlikely  that  he  ever  placed  himself  in  his  power 
by  sharing  all  his  plans  with  him.  There  was  an 
old  manservant  at  Merripit  House,  whose  name  was 
Anthony.    His  connection  with  the  Stapletons  can 

243 


THE    HOUND  OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

be  traced  for  several  years,  as  far  back  as  the  school- 
mastering  days,  so  that  he  must  have  been  aware 
that  his  master  and  mistress  were  really  husband 
and  wife.  This  man  has  disappeared  and  has  es- 
caped from  the  country.  It  is  suggestive  that 
Anthony  is  not  a  common  name  in  England,  while 
Antonio  is  so  in  all  Spanish  or  Spanish-American 
countries.  The  man,  like  Mrs.  Stapleton  herself, 
spoke  good  English,  but  with  a  curious  lisping  ac- 
cent. I  have  myself  seen  this  old  man  cross  the 
Grimpen  Mire  by  the  path  which  Stapleton  had 
marked  out.  It  is  very  probable,  therefore,  that  in 
the  absence  of  his  master  it  was  he  who  cared  for 
the  hound,  though  he  may  never  have  knov;n  the 
purpose  for  which  the  beast  was  used. 

The  Stapletons  then  went  down  to  Devonshire, 
whither  they  were  soon  followed  by  Sir  Henry  and 
you.  One  word  now  as  to  how  I  stood  myself  at 
that  time.  It  may  possibly  recur  to  your  memory 
that  when  I  examined  the  paper  upon  which  the 
printed  words  were  fastened  I  made  a  close  inspec- 
tion for  the  water-mark.  In  doing  so  I  held  it 
within  a  few  inches  of  my  eyes,  and  was  conscious 
of  a  faint  smell  of  the  scent  known  as  white  jessa- 
mine. There  are  seventy-five  perfumes,  which  it  is 
very  necessary  that  a  criminal  expert  should  be  able 
to  distinguish  from  each  other,  and  cases  have  more 
than  once  within  my  own  experience  depended  up- 
on their  prompt  recognition.  The  scent  suggested 
the  presence  of  a  lady,  and  already  my  thoughts  be- 

244 


A  RETROSPECTION 


gan  to  turn  towards  the  Stapletons.  Thus  I  had 
made  certain  of  the  hound,  and  had  guessed  at  the 
criminal  before  ever  we  went  to  the  West  Country. 

"  It  was  my  game  to  watch  Stapleton.  It  was 
evident,  however,  that  I  could  not  do  this  if  I  were 
with  you,  since  he  would  be  keenly  on  his  guard.  I 
deceived  everybody,  therefore,  yourself  included, 
and  I  came  down  secretly  when  I  was  supposed  to 
be  in  London.  My  hardships  were  not  so  great  as 
you  imagined,  though  such  trifling  details  must 
never  interfere  with  the  investigation  of  a  case.  I 
stayed  for  the  most  part  at  Coombe  Tracey,  and 
only  used  the  hut  upon  the  moor  when  it  was  neces- 
sary to  be  near  the  scene  of  action.  Cartwright 
had  come  down  with  me,  and  in  his  disguise  as  a 
country  boy  he  was  of  great  assistance  to  me.  I 
was  dependent  upon  him  for  food  and  clean  linen. 
When  I  was  watching  Stapleton,  Cartwright  was 
frequently  watching  you,  so  that  I  was  able  to  keep 
my  hand  upon  all  the  strings. 

I  have  already  told  you  that  your  reports 
reached  me  rapidly,  being  forwarded  instantly  from 
Baker  Street  to  Coombe  Tracey.  They  were  of 
great  service  to  me,  and  especially  that  one  inci- 
dentally truthful  piece  of  biography  of  Stapleton's. 
I  was  able  to  establish  the  identity  of  the  man  and 
the  woman,  and  knew  at  last  exactly  how  I  stood. 
The  case  had  been  considerably  complicated 
through  the  incident  of  the  escaped  convict  and  the 
relations  between  him  and  the  Barrymores.  This 

245 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

also  you  cleared  up  in  a  very  effective  way,  though 
I  had  already  come  to  the  same  conclusions  from  my 
own  observations. 

"  By  the  time  that  you  discovered  me  upon  the 
moor  I  had  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  whole 
business,  but  I  had  not  a  case  which  could  go  to  a 
jury.  Even  Stapleton's  attempt  upon  Sir  Henry 
that  night  which  ended  in  the  death  of  the  unfortu- 
nate convict  did  not  help  us  much  in  proving  mur- 
der against  our  man.  There  seemed  to  be  no  al- 
ternative but  to  catch  him  red-handed,  and  to  do 
so  we  had  to  use  Sir  Henry,  alone  and  apparently 
unprotected,  as  a  bait.  We  did  so,  and  at  the  cost 
of  a  severe  shock  to  our  client  we  succeeded  in  com- 
pleting our  case  and  driving  Stapleton  to  his  de- 
struction. That  Sir  Henry  should  have  been  ex- 
posed to  this  is,  I  must  confess,  a  reproach  to  my 
management  of  the  case,  but  we  had  no  means  of 
foreseeing  the  terrible  and  paralyzing  spectacle 
which  the  beast  presented,  nor  could  we  predict  the 
fog  which  enabled  him  to  burst  upon  us  at  such 
short  notice.  We  succeeded  in  our  object  at  a  cost 
which  both  the  speciaHst  and  Dr.  Mortimer  assure 
me  will  be  a  temporary  one.  A  long  journey  may 
enable  our  friend  to  recover  not  only  from  his  shat- 
tered nerves,  but  also  from  his  wounded  feelings. 
His  love  for  the  lady  was  deep  and  sincere,  and  to 
him  the  saddest  part  of  all  this  black  business  was 
that  he  should  have  been  deceived  by  her. 

"  It  only  remains  to  indicate  the  part  which  she 

246 


A  RETROSPECTION 


had  played  throughout.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  Stapleton  exercised  an  influence  over  her 
which  may  have  been  love  or  may  have  been  fear, 
or  very  possibly  both,  since  they  are  by  no  means 
incompatible  emotions.  It  was,  at  least,  absolutely 
effective.  At  his  command  she  consented  to  pass 
as  his  sister,  though  he  found  the  limits  of  his  power 
over  her  when  he  endeavoured  to  make  her  the  di- 
rect accessory  to  murder.  She  was  ready  to  warn 
Sir  Henry  so  far  as  she  could  without  impHcating 
her  husband,  and  again  and  again  she  tried  to  do  so. 
Stapleton  himself  seems  to  have  been  capable  of 
jealousy,  and  when  he  saw  the  baronet  paying  court 
to  the  lady,  even  though  it  was  part  of  his  own 
plan,  still  he  could  not  help  interrupting  with  a  pas- 
sionate outburst  which  revealed  the  fiery  soul  which 
his  self-contained  manner  so  cleverly  concealed. 
By  encouraging  the  intimacy  he  made  it  certain  that 
Sir  Henry  would  frequently  come  to  Merripit 
House  and  that  he  would  sooner  or  later  get  the 
opportunity  which  he  desired.  On  the  day  of  the 
crisis,  however,  his  wife  turned  suddenly  against 
him.  She  had  learned  something  of  the  death  of 
the  convict,  and  she  knew  that  the  hound  was  be- 
ing kept  in  the  out-house  on  the  evening  that  Sir 
Henry  was  coming  to  dinner.  She  taxed  her  hus- 
band with  his  intended  crime,  and  a  furious  scene 
followed,  in  which  he  showed  her  for  the  first  time 
that  she  had  a  rival  in  his  love.  Her  fidelity  turned 
in  an  instant  to  bitter  hatred  and  he  saw  that  she 


247 


THE    HOUND   OF  THE  BASKERVILLES 

would  betray  him.  He  tied  her  up,  therefore,  that 
she  might  have  no  chance  of  warning  Sir  Henry, 
and  he  hoped,  no  doubt,  that  when  the  whole  coun- 
trj^side  put  down  the  baronet's  death  to  the  curse 
of  his  family,  as  they  certainly  would  do,  he  could 
win  his  wife  back  to  accept  an  accomplished  fact 
and  to  keep  silent  upon  what  she  knew.  In  this  I 
fancy  that  in  any  case  he  made  a  miscalculation,  and 
that,  if  we  had  not  been  there,  his  doom  would  none 
the  less  have  been  sealed.  A  woman  of  Spanish 
blood  does  not  condone  such  an  injury  so  lightly. 
And  now,  my  dear  Watson,  without  referring  to 
my  notes,  I  cannot  give  you  a  more  detailed  ac- 
count of  this  curious  case.  I  do  not  know  that  any- 
thing essential  has  been  left  unexplained.'' 

He  could  not  hope  to  frighten  Sir  Henry  to 
death  as  he  had  done  the  old  uncle  with  his  bogie 
hound." 

"  The  beast  was  savage  and  half-starved.  If  its 
appearance  did  not  frighten  its  victim  to  death,  at 
least  it  would  paralyze  the  resistance  which  might 
be  offered." 

"  No  doubt.  There  only  remains  one  dif!iculty. 
If  Stapleton  came  into  the  succession,  how  could  he 
explain  the  fact  that  he,  the  heir,  had  been  living 
unannounced  under  another  name  so  close  to  the 
property?  How  could  he  claim  it  without  causing 
suspicion  and  inquiry?  " 

It  is  a  formidable  difficulty,  and  I  fear  that  you 
ask  too  much  when  you  expect  me  to  solve  it.  The 

248 


A  RETROSPECTION 


past  and  the  present  are  within  the  field  of  my  in- 
quiry, but  what  a  man  may  do  in  the  future  is  a 
hard  question  to  answer.  Mrs.  Stapleton  has 
heard  her  husband  discuss  the  problem  on  several 
occasions.  There  were  three  possible  courses.  He 
might  claim  the  property  from  South  America,  es- 
tablish his  identity  before  the  British  authorities 
there,  and  so  obtain  the  fortune  without  ever  com- 
ing to  England  at  all ;  or  he  might  adopt  an  elabo- 
rate disguise  during  the  short  time  that  he  need  be 
in  London;  or,  again,  he  might  furnish  an  accom- 
plice with  the  proofs  and  papers,  putting  him  in  as 
heir,  and  retaining  a  claim  upon  some  proportion  of 
his  income.  We  cannot  doubt  from  what  we  know 
of  him  that  he  would  have  found  some  way  out  of 
the  difficulty.  And  now,  my  dear  Watson,  we  have 
had  some  weeks  of  severe  work,  and  for  one  even- 
ing, I  think,  we  may  turn  our  thoughts  into  more 
pleasant  channels.  I  have  a  box  for  '  Les  Hugue- 
nots.' Have  you  heard  the  De  Reszkes?  Might 
I  trouble  you  then  to  be  ready  in  half  an  hour,  and 
we  can  stop  at  Marcini's  for  a  little  dinner  on  the 
way? 


THE  END 


3Sp  (l^eorge  Bouglas 


THE  HOUSE  WITH  THE 
GREEN  SHUTTERS 

r 

The  first  novel  of  a  new  master.  The  work 
has  gained  wide-spread  recognition  on  both 
sides  of  the  water.  Three  of  the  most  conserv- 
ative and  authoritative  publications  in  Eng- 
land include  it  among  the  first  twelve  of  the 
year.  In  this  country  Harper's  Weekly  gives 
it  as  one  of  the  two  most  interesting  novels  of 
the  year. 

The  critics  differ  as  to  with  what  other  master 
George  Douglas  should  he  compared  : 

The  London  Times  says  :  '*  Worthy  of  the  hand  that 
drew  *  Weir  of  Hermiston,' "  and  that  '*  Balzac  and 
Flaubert,  had  they  been  Scotch,  would  have  written 
such  a  book." 

The  Spectator:  '*  His  masters  are  Zola  and  Balzac,  but 
there  are  few  traces  of  the  novice  and  none  of  the  im- 
itator." 

Vanity  Fair :  **  It  moves  to  its  end  with  all  the  terrible 
unity  of  an  iEschylean  tragedy." 

Harper's  Weekly:  "If  Thomas  Hardy  had  written  of 
Scotland,  instead  of  Wessex,  it  would  have  been  some- 
thing like  *  The  House  with  the  Green  Shutters'  ...  If 
any  man  is  his  (Douglas')  master  it  is  Thomas  Hardy." 

Hardy,  Stevenson,  Zola,  Flaubert,  Balzac,  andifischylus. 

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-4i*^Jior  of  *•  2%e  (?r^a«  J5o«r  War  " 

THE  WAR  IN  SOUTH  AFRICA 

ITB  CAUSE  AND  CONDUCT 

r 

Dr  DOYLE  served  several  months  as  a  sur- 
geon in  South  Africa  and  is  thoroughly  familiar 
with  the  situation  there.  He  feels  that  there 
are  many  who  misunderstand  Great  Britain's 
attitude  in  the  conflict.  It  is  in  order  to  set 
these  people  right  —  in  order  "  to  combat  the 
flood  of  lies  which  have  pervaded  the  world 
about  British  policy  and  British  soldiers/'  as  he 
himself  puts  it  —  that  he  has  written  this 
small  book,  "  The  War ;  Its  Cause  and 
Conduct.'' 

It  is  at  Dr.  Doyle's  request  that  we  now  place 
this  book  on  sale  at  the  mere  cost  of  printing. 
In  this  way,  the  author  hopes,  his  carefully 
gathered  mass  of  testimony  will  set  Great 
Britain  aright  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
United  States. 

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THE  GREAT  BOER  WAR 

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As  the  Chicago  Evening  Post  says : 

•*  It  presents  so  authentic  and  comprehensive  an  history 
of  the  great  conflict,  with  such  graphic  vividness  in  the 
narrative  and  picturesque  effect,  that  it  is  pretty  sure  to 
remain  a  sort  of  standard  authority." 

W.  G.  H.  Koenneker,  who  fought  on 
the  Boer  side,  read  the  book  while  a 
prisoner  in  Ceylon. 

*•  He  (Dr.  Doyle)  weighs  each  party's  share  in  the  bring- 
ing about  of  the  war  with  admirable  impartiality  and 
fairness,"  Mr.  Koenneker  writes.  **In  his  description 
of  the  Boers  storming  right  up  to  the  British  rifles  with 
supreme  dash,  or  of  a  small  British  garrison  keeping  an 
exposed  position,  an  open  townlet,  against  overwhelming 
odds  with  downright  bulldog  tenacity,  one  seems  to  read 
a  tale  of  knightly  time  of  old  and  not  an  episode  of  our 
modern  century  of  crass  materialism.  Surely  such  books 
are  not  written  in  vain,  and  will  be  read  by  generations 
to  come  on  both  sides.  Honor  to  the  man  who  wrote 
*  The  Great  Boer  War '  in  the  way  he  did,  while  the  din 
of  battle  was  still  filling  the  air." 

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"Mr.  Hope's  most  mature  and  most  artistic  work." 

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■0 


